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ISIMFOIB 



UBRARY 



TALES 



OF 



FASHIONABLE LIFE. 



VOL. IV. 



I 



I 



TALES 



OF 



FASHIONABLE LIFE, 

BY 

MISS EDGEWORTH, 

// 

AUTHOR OF PRACTICAL EDUCATION) BELINDA, CAfTLS RACKRENTy 

ESSAY ON IRISH BULLS, Uc 

IN SIX VOLUMEa 
VOL. IV. 

COKTAIIIIlia 

VIVIAN. 



Tntta la gente in lieta fronte uiliva 

lie graziose e finte istorielle 

Ed i difetti alcrui tosto seoprira 

CiascunOy e non i proprj espiessi in quelle; 

O se de proprj sospettava, ignoti 

Credeali a ciascun altro, e a «e ool noti. 



LONDON: 



PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON AND CO., 

ST. pall's church-yard. 
1812. 



y; 



6 kj- u \Q> 



756424 



Printed by C. Wood^ 
Poppin's Court, Fleet Street. 



* • 












PREFACE. 



THE following stories were pro- 
mised in the preface to the first 
volume of Tales of Fashionable Life; 
they were then withheld, bceause it 
was thought, that six volumes of 
such a slight texture would be too 
many to publish at one time. Two 
of the tales, J^ivian and Enulie de 
CoulangeSf had been nearly written 
ten years ago ; The Absentee alone 
was written lately. 

Miss Edgeworth's genera! views, 
in these stories, are explained in the 
preface to the first volume. I can- 
not, however, omit repeating, that 
public favour has not yet rendered 
A 3 



J 



11 PREFACE. 

her so presumptuous^ as to offer 
hastj effusions to her readers, but 
that she takes a longer time to revise 
what she writes, than the severe 
ancients required for the highest 
jspecies of moral fiction. 

Vivian exposes one of the most 
<:ommon defects of mankind. — To be 
^^ infirm ofpurposey^ is to be at the 
mercy of the artful, or at the dis- 
posal of accident. Look round, and 
count the numbers, who have, with- 
in your own knowledge, failed from 
want of firmness 1 

An excellent .and wise mother 
gave the following advice with her 
dying breath — 

*^ My son, learn early how to say. 
No!'' — ^This precept gave the first 
idea of the story of Vivian. 

'^ Emilie de Coulanges'' exposes a 
fault, into which the good and gene- 
JTOUS are liable to falL 



Great sacrifices and great benefits 
cannot frequently he made or con- 
ferred by private individuals ; but, 
evei-y day, kindness and attention 
to the common feelings of others is 
within the power, and may be the 
practice, of every age, and sex, and 
station. Common faults arc re- 
proved by all writers on morality ; 
but ihere are errours and defects^ 
that require to be treated in a llghtei- 
manner, and that come, with pro- 
priety, within the province of es- 
sayists and of writers for the stage. 

The Absentee is not intended 
as a censure upon those, whose 
duties, and emph>yments, and supe- 
rior talents, lead them to the capital ; 
but to warn the thoughtless and the 
unoccupied from seeking distinctitm 
by frivolous imitation of fashlim and 
ruinous waste of fortune. 

A country gentleman, or even a 



'i 



IT PIIEFACE. 

nobleman, wlio does not sit in par- 
liament, may be as usefully and as 
honourably employed in Yorkshire, 
Mid Lothian, or Ireland, as at a 
club-bouse or an assembly in Lon- 
don. 

Irish agents are here described as 
of two diflerent species. That there 
have been bad and oppressive Irish 
agents, many gi'eat landed English 
proprietors have felt; that there are 
well informed, just, and honourable 
Irish agents, every day experience 
can testify. 

R. L. Edgewoeth. 

May 1812, 



LIST OF ALL THE WORKS 



WRITTEN BY 



MR. AND MISS EDGEWORTH ; 



PUBLISHED ONLY 



BV J. JOHNSON AND CO. 



tT« Paul's chvrch-yard. 



MISS EDGEWORTH^S WORKS. 

IT is painful to be obliged to address the public in 
a manner, that has at first sight the appearance of a 
mean art to attract notice* 

But as certain books have been published under tlie 
name of Miii Edgewortbi Mm. Edgewurtb, and 
Makia Edgetvortbi nmu qf which hatienoi that moral 
tendency, that alone canjuit\f^ a female for appear^ 
ing as an Author; her father thinks it due to his 
daughter, and to the rest qf his family, to request, that 
the public will not consider any work, under the name 
qf EoGEwoHTHy that is not published by Messrs. 
Johnson and Co., Su Paurs Cburch-yard, London^ 
as the production of any of his family, 

RlCHABD L0VEI.L EPGEWORTH, 

Kdgeworthstown^ 
Feb. 6, 1812, 



Correct List of' J\Jr. and Miss Edge- 
worth's tf^orks. 

Rational Primer, by Mr. Edgeworth. 

Early Lessons for Children, in Ten 
Parts. 

Parent's Assistant ; or, Stories for 
Children, 6 vols. 

Explanations of Poetrv, by Mr. Edge- 
worth. 

Essays on Practical Education, by 
Mr. and Miss Edgewoith, 2 vols. 

Professional Education, by Mr, Ed^- 
worth. 

Letters for Literary Ladies. 

Castle Rackrent. 

Essay on Bulls, by Mr. and Miss Edge- 
worth. 

Moral Tales, 3 vols. 

Belinda, 3 vols. 

Leonora, 2 vols. 

Grihelda. 

Popular Tales, 3 vols. 

Tales of Fashionable Life, 6 vols. 
PAIVIPHLETS. 

Letter to ^.ord Charlemont on the 
Telegraph, by Mr. Edgeworth. 

Mr. Edgeworth's Speeches in Par- 
liament. 



(% 



VIVIAN. 



» • ■* 



cc 



CHAPTER I. 

" To see the best, and yet the worst pursue." 

s 
• 

Is it possible," exclaimed Vivian, ^^ that 
ymi, Russell, uiy friend, iny best friend, cau 
tell me that this line is the motto of ray 
character! — To see the best, and yet the 
worst pursue. — Then you must think me 
either a villain or a madman. 

'' No," replied Russell calmly 5 /'I think 
you only weak." ' 

" Weak ! — but you must think me an ab^ 
solute fool." 

^^ No, not a fool ; the weakness of which 
I accuse you is not a weakness of th^ 
understanding. I find no fault either with 
the logical or the mathematical part of 
your understanding. It is not erroneous in 
either of the two great points in. which 
Bacon says, that most meu*s mind^ be det 

VOL. I. B 



f 



« VIVIAN. 

ficient in the power of judging of conse- . 
quences, or in the power of estimating tho 
comparative value of objects." 

" Well," cried Vivian impatiently, *' but 
I don't want to hear, just now, what Bacoa 
says — but what you think. — Tell me all 
the faults of my chararter." 

"All! — unconscionable! — after the fa- 
tigue of this long day's journey," said Rm- 
sell, laughing. 

These two friends were, at this time, tra- 
veliiflg from Oxford to Vivian HnH, (iB 
— — shire,) the snperh seat of tJie Vj\-ia* 
fttHiHy, to which Vivian was heir. Mr* 
Russell, tlKuigh he was Init a few years 
older than Vivian, had been his tutor at 
college; and, by an uncommon tranf-ition, 
had, from his tutor, becouie his intimate 
friemi. 

After a pause, Vivian resumed — 

" Now I think irf" it, Rnssel!, you are to 
biame, if I have any faults. Don't yon say, 
that every thing is to be done by educatioa. 
Anrf we not yon — though by much toe 
yoang, and infinitely too handsome, tor a 
phikisopfeer — are not yon my guide, phi- 
losopher, and frieod?" 



" But I have hjicl the honour to be your 
gnide, philosopher, and tVitnil, only for these 
three years," said RiibscU: " I believe in the 
rational, bnt not io the magical power of 
education. How could 1 do or undo, in 
three years, the work of the precediug 
aeventeen." 

" Then, if you won't let me blame yoa, 
I ranst blame my mother." 

"Your motiierl — I had always under- 
stood that she had paid particular attentioa 
to ymir early education, and all the world 
says, that lady Mary Vivian, though a wo- 
man of fashion, is remarkably well inforuied 
aad domcKtif ; and, judging from those of 
ber letters, which you have shown me, I 
should think, that, for once, what all tlie 
world says is right." 

" What all the world says is right, and 
yet I am not wrong: — my mother is a very 
clever woman, and most affectionate, and 
she certainly paid particular attention to 
my early education; bnt her attention was 
too particular, hi;r care was too great. 
Yon know I was an only son — then I lost 
ray father when I was an infant; and a 
woman, let her be ever so sensible, ca.^'oss^. 
B 3 



4 VIVIAN. 

^dl educate an only son, without some 
manly assistance; the fonder she is of the 
* son the worse, even if her fondness is not 
foolish fondness — it makes her over anxious 
— it makes her do too much. My mother 
took too.much^ a great deal too much care 
of me; she over-educated, over-instructed, 
ovei- dosed me with premature lessons of pru- 
dence ; she was so afraid that I should ever 
do a foolish thing, or not say a wise one, 
that she prompted my every word, and 
guided my every action. So I grew up, 
seeing with her eyes, hearing with her ears, 
and judging with her understanding, till, 
at length, it was found out, that I had not 
eyes, ears, or understanding of my own. 
'When 1 was between . twelve and thirteen, 
my mothei' began to think, that I was not 
sufficiently manly for my age, and that 
there was something too yielding and unde- 
cided in my character Yielding and unde- 
cided! — No wonder! — Had not I been from 
my cradle under .the necessity of always yield- 
ing, and in the habit of never deciding for 
myself! — Seized with a panic, my mother, 
to make a man of me in a trice, sent me to 
Harrow school. There I was, >yitb all 



VIVIAN. 4 

convenient expedition, made ashamed o& 
every thing good I hail learned at himitr;^ 
and there I learaed every thing bad, uniL 
nothing good, that could he learnod at^ 
school. 1 was inferior in Latin and Cireek;j 
wnd this was a deficiency I couhl not make, 
np without more lahonr than I had couiagfr 
to iindeitake. I was snperior in general litEr; 
rature, but this was of little value amongst m^ 
competitors, and, therefore, I despised it^ 
and, overpowered hy nunihers and hy I'idifj'' 
cule, I was, of course, led into all sorts oSi 
folly, by mere mauua'inc. hoiite. Had I b«eU| 
in the habit of exercising my own judgment^ 
or had my resolution l>eeu strengthened by, 
degrees ; had I, iu short, been prepared i'or- 
a sehool; 1 might, perhaps, have acquired, h% 
a public e<Iucatiou, a manly,independentspi-j 
rit. if Iluidevenbeeiiwliollybroiupinapnb:^ 
lie school, I might have been forced, as other* 
were, hy early and frtircompetition, to exercisJT 
my owD powers, and, by my own cxpenencc 
in that microcosm, as it has been callw!, 1 
might have formed some niles of coniluct, 
some manliness of character, and might 
have made, at least, a good schoolboy; hat, 
half home-bred and half scliool-bred, from 



want of proper preparation, one half of ifnjp 
education totally destroyed the other. From 
school, of course, I went to collef;t', and at 
college, of course, I shonld have become one 
of the worst species of college lad?, and 
should have had no chance, in my whole fii- 
tnre life, of being any thing but a dissipated 
fool of Htshion, one of the Four-in-hand 
Cluh, or the Barouche Club, or the Tandem 
Club, or the Defiance Club, hud not I, by 
the greatest good fortune, met with Mich a 
firiend as you, and, by still greater ijood for- 
tune, found you out for myself; for if luv 
mothef had recommended you to me, I 
should have seen you only as a college 
tutor; I shonld never hare discovered half 
yoDT real merit ; I dowbt whether I should 
have even seen, that you are yoong and 
handsome: so prejndiced should I liaro 
lieen with the jireconceived notion of a c<^- 
lege tutor, that I am not certain whether I 
should have found out that you ate a gen- 
tleman, as well horn and well bred as my- 
self; bnt, be that as it may, I am positive, 
that I never should have made you my com- 
panion and friend ; I shonld never have 
thrown open my whole soul to yon, as I 



VIVIAN. ^9 

have done, nor could yon crer have obtained 
such wondi^us jioirer as yon poesess over 
luy miod, if yon had been recomiuemled M^ 
ine by niy mother." 

" I am sorry," said Rnssrfl, STntlin^. 
" that, after so many wise reflcctious, and- 
so many fine compliments, you end bf 
proving to me, that my wondrous power it 
founded on yonr wondrous weakness. I anf' 
mortified to find, that yonr esteem and 
friendship for me depended so mnch npoii ' 
my not hiiving had the honour of your mo-i 
^er^B recommendation ; and, have not T] 
reason to fear, that now, when 1 have rf 
cbance of becoming acqnainted with lady 
Mary Vivian, and, perhaps, a chance of he» 
thinking me a fit companion and friend for 
her Bon, I mnst lose his regard and confi- 
dence, because I shall labonr under the irt-' 
snperable objection of an affectionate mo^ 
ther's approbation?" * 

'' No, no," said Vivian ; " my M-ilfui 
folly does not go quite so far as that. Sd 
that I maintain the privilege of choosing 
my friends for myself, I shall always lie- 
pleased an<l proud to find my mother apt 
prove my choice." ' 



F 



After a few moments" pjiase, Vivian atldetFJ 
" You niisuti(WstaQ<i, qnite mitinnderstiind 
me, if you tliink that 1 am not fonri of 
inj- niothtr. I respect ain! love her with ail 
my soul : — I should lie a most uugratefiil 
wretch, if I did not.. — I did very wiong, to , 
speaic as I (Ud just now, of any little ermur* I 
^he may have luad*' in iny education ; tnit^ ' 
■j^lieve me, 1 would not have said so nmcb 
|o any one living but yourself, nor to yoUu 
, but ill sUict confidence ; and, after all, i 
don't know whether 1 ought not to lay the 
bliuuB of my faults on my masters, more 
than on my poor mother." i 

" Lay the blame where we will," said 
!(lusscll, " remember, that the punishment 
will, vest on ourselves. We may, with as 
much philosophic justice as possible, throuf 
the blame of our faults on our parents and 
preceptors, and on the earlymismanagementi 
of our minds; yet, after we have made out 
our case in the abstract, to the perfect satis- 
faction of ajury of metaphysicians, when we 
come to onert actions, all our judges, learned 
and unjoined, are so awed, by tlie ancient 
precedents and practice of society, and by 
the obsolete law of common sense, that tliey 



VIVIAN. 

£i]ish by jjronounchig against iis the liarba- 
rous sentence, that every man must suflct 
for liis own faults." ; 

" 1 hope I shall be able to bear It, luy 
lord, as the English sailor said whcu 

the judge But look out there 1 Let 

down that glass on your side of the car^ 
riage!" cried Vivian, starting forward. 
" There's Vivian Hall ! " 

"That fine old castle?" said Russell> 
looking out of the window. 

" No, that's Glistonbury Casitle ; Ijnt,* 
farther off to the left, don't you see amongst. 
' the trees that house with wings ?" 
I, "Ha! quite a new, modern house : lhad.b 
always fiincied tliat VivHan Hall was an ol<J. 
pile of building," 

" So it was, till my father thifw down 
the old hall, and built this new house." , 

" And a very handsome one it is. — la it 
as good witliin as without?" 

" Quite, I think; Imt I'll leave you tp 
■judge for yourself. — Are not those fine old 
trees in the park ; " 

From this time, till the travellers arrived 
at Vivian Hall, their conversation turned 
Hjion trees, and avcmies, and seTOC"Ci\!\'ne ap- 



10 VIVIAN. 

proaches^ and alterations that Vivian in- 
tended to muke, when he shottld be of age^ 
and master of this fine plfice ; and he no* 
wanted bnt a twelvemoth of Ijeing at legal 
years of discretion. When they arrived at 
the hallj lady Mary Vivian showed sncfc 
afectionate joy at the sight of her son, an^ 
received Mr. RuFsell with such easy jwlite- 
ness, that he -whs prepossessed at first in her 
ferour. To this charm of well-bred man- 
ners was united the appearance of sincerity 
and warmth of feeling. In her conversation 
there was a mixture of excellent sense and 
general literatnre with the frivolities of the 
fashionable world, and the anecdotes of the 
day in certain high circles, of which sht 
seemed to talk more from haljit than taste, 
and to annex importance more from the 
rompnision of external circmn stances than 
from choice. Bnt her son, — her son was 
the great object of all her thoughts, serions 
or frivolons. She was delighted by the im- 
provements she saw in his understanding and 
character; by the taste and talents he dis- 
played, both for fine literature and for solid 
information : this flattered her hope, that he 
would hoih shine as a poUtihed gentienum. 



VIVIAN. U. 

and make a figure in public life. To hi« 
friend Rnssell she attributed these happy 
improvemeots ; and, though he wm not a . 
tator of her ovm original selection, yet her .' 
pride, on this occasion, yielded to grali-'. 
tnde, and she graciously declared, that sha 
could not feel jealous of tlie preeminent 
power he had obtained over her son, whea 
she saw the admirable use he matte of thia 
influence. Vivian, like all candid and ge- 
nerous persons, being peculiarly touched Ijy 
candonr and generosity in others, telt his 
aftectioii for his mother rapidly increased by 
this conduct; nor did his enthusiasm for 
his friend in tlie least abate, in conse- 
q»ience at the hitih approbation with which> 
she honoured him, nor even in consequence 
of her ladyship's frequent, and rather inju- 
dicious eiqiressioQs of her hopes, that her 
son would always preserve, and show himself 
worthy of such a friend. 

He joined in his mother's entreaties tt^ 
Russell to prolong bis risit; and, as her 
ladyship declared she thought it of essential 
consequence to her son's interest and future 
happiness, that he should, at this turn of 
}tis life, have such a companion, Russell con- ■ 



12 VIVIAN. 

lented to remain with hiia some time longer^ 
All parties ivere thus pleased with eacti 
other, and remained united liy one commoii 
interest ahoiit the same objects, during se- 
veral weeks of ii deligbtfid smnnicr. — But, 
alas I this family harmonv, aiid tliis accord 
of reason and iritt, between the mother and 
3DB, was not of longer dnration. As usual, 
there were fanlts on both sides. 
- Lady Mary Vivian, whose hopes of her 
son's distinguishing himself by his abilities 
had been much exalted, since his last return, 
from Oxford, had indulged herself hi pleas- 
ing anticipations of the time wheu he shonld 
make hIs' Jippearance in the fashionable, 
and in the political world. She foresaw the 
respect that wouki be paid to her, on his 
account, both by senators and by matrons ; 
'by ministers, who might want to gain arising 
ciratorls vote, and by motliers, who might 
wish to make an excellent match for their 
daughters : nut only by all nvotbers, who 
Taad daughters to marry, but by all daugh- 
tfers, who had hearts or bands to dispose of, 
lady Mary felt secure of having her society 
courted. Now, she had rather extravagant 
expectations for her son : she expected him 



VIVIAN. IS 

to maiTT, so as to secure domestic liuppiness^ 
and, at the same time, to have tabhtoo, aod 
beatity, and rank, and high connexions, and 
every amiable quality in a wife. This visioli 
of a fnture daugliter-in-hnv contiimallyoccu-r 
pied her ladyship's iuiagination. ,\Ireadyi 
with maternal Alnascharism, she had, in 
her reveries, thrown back her head with dis- 
dain, as she repulsed the family advances of 
some wealthy, but low-born heiress, or a» 
ehe rejected the alliance of some of the new 
nobility. — Already she had arranged the 
very wordi of her answers to these, and de- 
termined the degrees and shades of her iiiti- 
inacies with those; already had she settled — 

" To wltoni to nod, wlioiii take into her coach. 
Whom honour with her hand ; " 

when one morning, as she sat at work, ab- 
sorbed in one of these reveries, she was so- 
far "rapt into fntnrc times," that, without 
perceiving that any body was present, she 
began to speak her thoughts, and said aloudr 
to herself — 

*' As if my son could possibly think of' 
herl" — 

Jler son, who was opposite to l\tt,\'^\ui^ 



u 



F 

I on a sofa, reading, or seeming to read, 
I started ap, and, putting down his book, ex- 
daimed, in a voice which showed at once 
that he was conscious of thinking of some 
particalar person, and deterinincd to persist 
in the thought, — 

" As if your son could possibly think of 
her! Of whom, ma'am?" 

" What's the matter, child r Are i-oh 
madi'" 

*' Not in the least, niiuiin ; but von 
Bud " 

" What ! " cried lady Mary, looking 
round ; " What did I say, that has occa- 
sioned so much disturbance ? — I was not 
conscious of saying any thing. — My dear 
Selina," continued her ladyship, appeal- 
ing to a young ludy, who sat very intent 
upon some drawing beside her, — " my dear 
Selina, you must have lieai-d ; what did I 
say?" 

The young lady looked embarrassed ; and 
the colour, which spread over her lace, 
brought a siidden suspicion into lady Maiys 
mind : her eye darted back upon her son ; 
— the suspicion, the fear was confirmed ; 
and she grew instantly pale, silent, and 



icbich sbe was 1 

P vAimo- t«4«*ft ' 



vrviAN. 
breathle&E, in the attitn^ in wbich 
struck whb this jxinic The youn^ Ia<lY'» 
blash and embarrawment had a verydifterent 
eflect on Vinan ; joy suddenly sparkled inr 
his eyes, and itlnmiited his whole connte- 
natlce, for this was the first instant he had 
ever felt any hope of having obtained an 
interest in her heart. He was too imichf 
transported, at this moment, to think cither 
of prudence or of his motherj and, when he 
recollected himself, he was too little prac- 
tised in dissimulation to repair his indiscre- 
tion. Something he did attempt to say, ami 
blundered, and laughed at bis Wnnder; and 
when his mother looked np at him, itt' 
serions silence, he only begged pardon for 
his folly, confessed he believed he was mad, 
and, turning away abruptly, left the room, 
exclaiming, that he wondered where Russell 
had been all the morning, and that he must 
go and look for him. A long ailenee 
ensued between Vivian's mother and th* 
young lady, who were left alone together. 
Lady Mary first broke this silence, and, in 
a constrained tone, asked, as she took up 
the newspaper, " Whether miss Sidney had 
found an/neirs?" • 



W vrviAN. 

" I don't know, ma'am," answered miss^ 
Sidney, in a voice scarcely articulate, 

" ] should have imagined there must be- 
some news from the continent; but you did- 
not find any, I tliiak jon say, miss Sidney ? " 
continued lady Mary, with haughty, averted- 
eyes. — After turning over the pages of" the, 
paper, without knowing one word it con-, 
fcuned, she laid it down, and rose to leave 
the room. Miss Sidney rose at the same 
time : — 

" Lady Mary, one instant! my dear lady 
Mary!" 

Lady Mary turned, and saw Selinii's sup- 
plicating eyes full of tears ; bnt her ladyship, 
still retaining her severity of manner, coldly 
said, "Does miss Sidney desire that 1 should 
stay? — Does miss Sidney wish to speak to 



" I do, — as soon as lean," — said Selina, 
in a faltering voice ; but, raising her eyes, 
and perceiving the contemptuous ex])resBion 
of lady Mary's conntenance, her own in- 
stantly changed. WItli the firm tone of 
conscious innocence, she repeated, " I do 
wish to speidi to vour ladyship, if you will 



V I V E A N. 17 

Hot expect or solicit your nsiml itidiir- 
geace." 

" Miss Sidney," rejilied kily Mary, "be- 
<ibre you say more, it becomes me to 
,j)oiDt out to you, thiit the momeut is past 
ffor confidence betwecu tis two; nnd that in 
\fio moment could I wish to hear from any 
|iersoji, much less from one whom 1 had 
nsidered as my friend, confessions, ex- 
.1»rted by ci reams tances, degrading and on- 
.availing." 

" Your bdyship need not be apprelienstve 
-of hearing from me any degrading confes- 
sions," said miss Sidney j " 1 have none to 
make: and since, without any just cause, 
without any cause for suspicion, but what a. 
blush, perhaps, or a moment's erabarrass- 
aaent of mauner may have created, you 
think It becomes you topdint out to me, 
^at the moment for confidence between u* 
t^wo is past, I can only lament my mistake, 
1 having believed that it ever existed." 
X,ady Mary's countenance and manner 
itally changed. The pride of rank yielded 
Ibeibre the pride of virtue ; and, jjerhaps, 
4he hope, that she had really no cause for 
suspicion, at once restored her affection fin; 



di 




n VIVIAN. 

her young friend. " Let as nnderBtand one 
another, my dear Selina," said she ; ** if 1 
Kaid a, hasty or a harsh word, forgive it. 
You know my afFeftion for you, and ray 
real confidence ; in actions, not in words, 
I have shown it. — In thonght, as well ta 
ija actions, my confidence in yon has been 
entire ; for, upon im) tvord, and you knoW 
that is not an asseveration I lightly nee, 
ttpon mif ivord, till that nnfortuiiate montent, 
a suspicion of you never crossed my imagi- 
nation. The proof — if there could need 
any proof to yoo of what I assert — the 
proof is, the delight I take in your society, 
the urgent manner in which I have so fre- 
quently, this Bommer, begged yoar company 
from yonr mother. Yon know this wd»W 
have not only been the height of insiflcerity, 
hut of folly and madness, if I had not felt a 
reliance upon yon, that made me consider it 
»8 an absolute impossibility, that yon could 
ever disappoint my friendship." 

" I thank your ladyship," said Selina, 
softened by the kind tone in which lady 
Mary now spoke, yet still retaining 9omo 
reserve of manner — " 1 thank your lady- 
ship for all yonr kindness — it has flat- 



VIVIAN. 19 

tered me mnch — touched me deeply — 
commanded my gratltode, and influenced' 
nj condoct uniformly — I can and do en- 
tirely forgive the injustice of a moment; 
and I now bid yon adien, my dear lady 
Miiry, with the conviction, that, if we were 
never to meet again, I should ahvavs hold 
tliat jJace in your esleom and affection with 
which yoH have honoured me, and which, 
if it be not too proud an expression, I hope 

I have deserved Won't yon bid me fare- 

Wel f " 

The tears gushed from lady Mary's eyes. 
** My dear, charming, and prndeirt Selifia, 
I understand yon perfectly — and I thank 
jo« — it grieves me to part with you — hnt 
J believe yon are right — I believe there is 
So other safety — no other remedy. How, 
Bideed, could I expect, that my son conld 
•ee and hear yon — live in the house with 
you, and l)ecome intimately acquainted with 
SDch a chanicter as yours, without danger. 
—I have been vei-y imprudent, unacconnt- 
ably imprudent, to expose him to anch a 
temptation — but I hope, I trust, that your 
prudence will repair, in time, the effects of 
my rashness — and again and aj^in ( thank 



r 



JC VIVIAN, 

yoa, my dear young friend — but, perhaps'^ 
it might be still better, that you should not, 
leave OS abruptly. Still better than your 
absence, I think, would be the conviction' 
yoa might impress on his mind of the im- 
possibility of his hopes — if you were t» 
stay a day or two, and convince him by yooR 

indifference, that ." " Excuse me, that: 

is what I cannot undertake," said Selina,. 
blushing, and conscious of blushing. Lady 
Slary was too polite and too delicate to seeuv 
to observe her confusion, but, embracing 
li^r, said : " If we must part, then take with 
yoa my highest esteem, afleclion, and grati- 
tude ; and this much let me add, that my 
most sanguine expectations for my son's- 
happiness would be i-ealihsd, if, amongst; 
the women to whom family interests masti 
restrict his choice, he could meet with on*; 
of half your merit, and half your attrao* 
tioiis." • 

" Amongst the women to whom family 
interests must restrict his choice" repeated. 
Selina to herself many times, as she jour- 
nied homewards ; and she pondered much' 
upon the meaning of this jihrase. — V'iviaa 
was sole heir to a very large property, ivith- 



VIVIAN. 



21 



ninut incambrances of any kind ; what, thero 
^re, was the necessity that restricted his 
fChoice — the imaginary necessity of ambi- 
,tion, which confined him to a certain circle 
lof fashionable, or lughlif connected people. 
.JSelina Sidney, thougli she was not ricli, was 
,of a very good gentleman's family ; her fe- 
iber bad been a colonel in the British 
'Wmy : during his life, Mrs. Sidney had 
.Ibeen in the hahtt of living a ^eat deal in 
nrhat is called the tiorld, and in the best 
company; and thongh, since his death, she 
^d- lived in retirement, miss Sidney had 
.^feceived an edacation, wbicli put her ufKin 
■a footing with young ladies of the highest 
Jiccomplishments and refinement in the 
^ngdom. M'ith every solid and auiiable 
j|t[uality, she had all those external advao- 
Ja^es of appearance and manner, which 
{lady Mary Vivian valued most highly. Se- 
lena, who was convinced that lady Mary 
(^predated her character, and was pecu- 
jjiarly fond of her company -and couversa- 
i^OD, eonld not but feel surprise, mixed 
jivith some indignation, perhaps with a little 
dFesenttnent, when she perceived that her 
lladysbip's prejudices and ambition made 



flB VIVIAN. 

her act so completely in contradiction to 
her bettfr JHtlgment, to her jirofessions, and 
to her feelings of aftection. Whatever miss 
Sidney thought upon this suhject, ho^vever> 
she determined to continue to act in the 
mo5t hononrithlc manner towards her friend ; 
she had never, till tliis day, had the least 
idea that Vivian loved her; but the pie«i- 
8»re she had for a motiient felt at the dis- 
coTery, or bare suspicion of his love, con- i 
viooed liei', that it wiis most piiident to retreat 1 
intniedtately ; and qo false pride, or weak | 
ftelf-delusion, had, even in the moment when 
*he was most irritated by lady Mary's 
liaAlghty suspicions, prevented her from do- 
ing what she knew to be ri^lit, and to be 
best for her own happiness. Selina's ex- 
^ske sensiliility could Ix; equalltd only 
by ber strong sense of duty; and, conscious 
of this real, btit concealed tenderness of 
heart, she was aware, that it refjiiired pecn- 
liar jjrudence to guard lieiself from the 
dangers of an unhappy pjtssion. She 
thought it most prob;d)le, that the love 

L which Vivian felt for her might only be df 
a transient nature, a passion such as young 
men fee! for the first pleasing yonng wo- 



VIVIAN. S3 

tliey see, whit-ii is easily transferred to 
a new object. Vivian was not yet ot uge — 
of a fortnne fur superior to lier ex|>ectatiui)s 
— bis mother and his guardian disapproved 
of his attachment — tliis motlier was Se- 
Una's friend, and had treated her with the 
ntmost kindness. All tliese reasons coni- 
bJiied, determined iiuAS Sidney to avoid see- 
ing Viviao any more — an excK^lkat reso- 
hitioa, in which vn leave her, and return 
to her lover. 

A walk witli Rnssell had bronght lum " 
back in the full determination oi' avowing 
his attacbuient sincerely to Lis mother, and 
ef Epeakiiig to her ladyship in the moat re- 
spectful manner; but, wlien he found that 
miss Sidney was gone, anger and disap- 
pointment made him at once forget his pru- 
dence, and his intended respect ; he de- 
pltiretl, in tlie most passionate terin.'^, his 
love for SeUna Sidney, and his irrevocable 
determinution to pursue her, to the end of 
time and space, in s|)he of all o])])osition 
whatsoever from any person whatever. 
His mother, who was prepared for a scene 
of this sort, though not fiw one of this vio- 
lence, had suthcient command of temper to 



SH' VIVIAN, 

sustain it properly; her cnmrnand of ti 
per was, indeed, a little assisted by the ho] 
that this passion would be transitory in pro^ 
portion to it's vehemence, much by the con^ 
fidence she had in miss Sidney's honour^ 
and in her absence: lady Mai'v, therefoi-e,'. 
calmly disclaimed having; had any part iw 
persnading miss Sidney to that measure^ 
ivliich had so much enraged her lover; hxik4 
her ladyship avowed, that, thongh it had no£j 
been necessary for her to suggest the meo^ 
sure, she highly approved of it, and admireji 
now, as she had ever admired, that young'J 
lady's prudent and noble conduct. Softened 
by the only thing, that could, at this cio^ 
ment, soften him — praise of his mistress — " 
Vivian, in a most affectionate manner, as-, 
snred his mother, that it was her warm eu-. 
logiams of miss Sidney, which had first- 
turned his attention to the perfectipns of 
her character; aiid lie now inquired what 
possible objections she coidd make to Iii^ 
choice. "With the generous enthusiasm of 
his disposition, heightened by all the elo- 
quence of love, he pleaded, that his fortune, 
was surelv sufficient to put him above mer- 
cenary considerations in the choice of a 



VIVIAN. 25 

%vife ; that, in every point, except this one 
of money^ Selina Sidney was, in his mother's 
own opinion, superior to every other wo- 
man she conW name, or wish for, as a 
daughter-in-law. 

^' But my tastes are not to bKnd me to 
your interests/* said lady Mary; ^^you iwre 
entitled to look for rank and high connexion; 
You are the representative of an ancient 
family, have talents to make a figure in 
public; and^ in short, prejudice or not, I 
confess it is one of the first wishes of my 
heart,- that you should marry into a noble 
family, or, at least, into one that shall 
strengthen your political interest, as well 
as secure your domestic happiness.^' 

Vivian, of course, cursed ambition, as all 
men do, whilst they are in love. His argu- 
ments and his eloquence, in favour of a pri- 
vate station, and of the joys of kamed lei" 
sure, a competence, and domestic bliss, were 
niorthy of the most renowned of ancient or 
modem philosophers. Russell was appealed 
to with much eagerness, both by mother 
and son, during their debates. He frankly 
declared to lady Mary, that he thought 
her son perfectly right in all he now ujged> 

VOL. I. c 



9S/^ VIVIAN. 

an(l especially in bis opinion of miss Sidnoyj 
but, atthesanietimo," added Russell, "lap. 
prebend tbat lie s|>takB, at this uiomentM 
mpre from passion than from reason, and j^ 
fear, tliat, in the course of a few months, hflj 
might, perhaps, entirely, ch.-in^ his mind:. 
therefore, 1 think your ladyship, ie prodeot* 
in refusing, dnring the minority of your aoi 
your consent to a hasty union, of which hi^ 
inight afterwards rci)ent, and thus rendeoj 
both li^i&elf and a most amiable noma 
miserable." 

Ruspell, aftei' having given his opinio! 
witl^ the utmost freedouij when it was rOfl) 
qflired by lady Mary, assured her, that hflj| 
should no farther interfere; and be trusted^ 
his present sincerity would be the best pledgei 
to her of his future discreliuii and honour.j 
This equitable judgment and sincerity of, 
IlusseH's, at tirst, dispkiibod both partie«,i 
but, in time, operated upon the retison o{j 
both. Not, however, iKjfore contests bad goH 
on long and loud between ibe mother and soni 
— not before agreat deal of nonsense liiid beei 
talked on I>otb sides. People of tlie bestii 
abilities ofteu talk the most nonsense, wherftin 
their passions, are ccipt;?rned,.beca«8ei.tb^ 



VIVIAN. tj 

whole of thpir mgelmity is exercised to 
fintl argiimettts in favour of their folly. 
Thi-y are not, like tViols, content tn say, 
Vhis is mi/ tcili; bnt they piqno themselves 
m giving reasons iVir their will, and their 
easooB urc the I'ensoiis of madmen, excel- 
BDt'Tipoii false prciinises. It happened here, ■ 
*in most family quarrels, that the dispatants 
rt>uld' flot ailoir siifticiently for the prcjii- 
fices' and ernmrs incid«nt to their different 
The mother would not allow for the 
hnnantic notions of tlie son. nor could the • 
endaro tiie worldly views of the mother, 
soil, wiio h;id, m ytl, no espti'ience of 
(Be traafiitory nature of tiie passion of lore, 
tbooghthis mother nr.feeling;',ndbarl)arou.s ' 
for opposing him on the point where the 
whole happiness of Iiis hfe was concerned ; 
the mother, who hud seen the decline and 
fall of so many everliist'mg love.'i. considered 
him ouly as aperson in :ife\'er, and thought she 
prevented hmi,hy her calmness, ft-om doing 
that, which he would repent when he sbonld 
regain his sober senses. Without dctailini; 
the daily disputes. M'hich now aro;;o. it will 
be sufficient to mark the result. 



"S«' VI-VJAN. 

Vivian's lore liad been sileat, tranquil, 
and not, seemingly, of any great conse- 
<]uencc, tillitwasopposcd; bnt, from the in- 
stant tliat an obstade intervened, it ga- 
thered strength and force, and it jjresently 
rose ra|iidiy, with prodigious uproar, tlireat- 
■euing to burst all bounds, and to destroy 
eveiy thing that stopped it's course. Lady 
Mary was now indined to try what eftect 
lessening the opposition might produce. 
To do her justice, she was also moved i» 
this by some nobler motives than fear; or, 
at least, her fears were not of a selfish kind: 
she dreaded, that Iter son's health and 
permanent bajipiness niigJit be injured 
by this violent passion ; she was appre- 
ihensive of becoming an object of his aver- 
.'Sion; of utterly losing bis confidence, and 
all power over his mind-, but, chiefly, . 
her generous temper was nuivcd and von 
by Seliua Sidney's ailmirablc conduct. 
During the whole tijiie, that Vivian used 
every means to see her, to write to her, and 
to con^'iIlCe licr of the friTour of his love, 
though he won all ber friends over to bis 
interests, though she heaid bis praises, from ' 



5i vi\?iAN. af^ 

toorning till night, from all who surrounded 
her, and though her own heart, perhaps, 
pleaded more powerfully than all the rest 
in his favour, vet she never, for one instant, 
gave hhn the slightest enconrttgement. 
L.ady Mary's esteem and affection were so 
much increased by these strong proofs of 
friendship and honour, tliat her prejudices 
yielded; ami she at length declared, thdt 
if her son continned, till he was of age, to 
feel the same attachment for this amiahre 
girl, she would give her consent to tht>ir 
'imion. But this, she added, she promise'd 
only on one condition — that her son should 
abstain from all attempts, in the interval, to 
see or correspond with miss Sidney, and 
that he should set ont immediately to travdl 
with Mr. Russell. Transported with love, 
and Joy, and victory, Vivian promised every 
thing that was reqnired of him, embraced 
his mother, and set ont upon his Travels. 

Allow," said he triumphantly to Rus- 
sell, as the chaise drove from the door, 
" allow, my good friend, that you were mis- 
taken in yotir fears of the weakness of my 
character, and of the yielding fticility of 



f0 VIVIAN, 

my temper. Yoo see how firm I hare hetn 
— j[Ou see wbat battle I have made — yop 
see how I have stoo^ out." 

" I never doubted," said Russell, "' your 
Ipve of yoar own free will — I never rloabted 
your fear of fating governed, especially Iw 
ysar mother ; bnt you do not expect, that 
I shoald allow this to be a proof of streugfjb 
Vf character." 

'* What ! do you suppose I act from low. 
ef njy own free will merely? — Do you cajl 

(By love for Sclina Sidney weakness ? Oht 

take care, Russell ; fur, if 1 once hnd yoj> 
pleading my mother's cause against yoitf 
co^sfience ." 

" ypjt will never find lue pleading aafy 
fUT^t against my conscience. I have to^ 
your mother, as 1 have told you, my opi- 
nion of miss Sidney— my firm opinion — th^t 
she is peculiarly calculated to make the' 
huppines^ of your life, provitled you coa- 
tiuue to love her." 

" Provided 1 — Oh !" cried Vivian, laugh- 
ing, " spare your musty provisoes, my dearA 
philosopher! Would upt any one think, 
ROW, yp« were sa old man of ninety ? if 



VIVIAN- 'SI 

lis is all jou have to ioar, I ant happy 
hindeed." 

" At present," said Russell calmly, '* I 
>bavc no tear, as I have post told your mo- 
ther, but that yon should cbaoge your miitd 
■•^rfote you arc of age." 

Vivian grew tjnite indignant at this sng- 
digestion. " You are angry with me," said 
•JRassellj " and so was yonr mother; she 
angry becaose I said, I feared, in- 
Vctead of, I hoped, yon would chiingc yonr 
MiBind. Both parties are angry with me fbf 
Nftry sincerity." 

Sincerilyl^no; bnt I am angry with 
hyob for ytAir abSurd bospitions of my eon- 
Mancy." 

If they are absnird, yon need not be 
iMuigr^'," said Russell : " I shall be well pleased 
I see their absurdity demomtrated." 
" Then 1 can demonstrate it this moment." 
" Pardon me, nOt this moment; you 
iilst take time into the account. 1 mak« 
:*Bo doubt, htit that, at this moment, you 
heartily in love with miss Sidney; but 
thing to be proved is, that your passion 
nrill not deelioc in tbrce, io proportioa tf it 



03 VIVIAN. 

meets with less resistance. If it does, you 
-*vill acknowledge, that it was more a Jove rf 
your own fi'ee wilt, than a love of yonr 
inistress, that has actuated yon, which was 
the thing to be proved." 

" HatcRil a. e. d.T" cried Vivian, " you 
shall see the contrary, and, at least, I wi!S 
triamph over yoa." , 

If Russell had ever nsed art, in his ma- 
nagement of Vivian's mind, ho might have' 
been snspectexl of using it in favour of miss 
Sidney at this instant; for this prephecy 
of Vivian's inconstancy was the most likely 
means to prevent it's accomplishment. Fre- 
quently, in the course of their tour, when 
Vivian was in any situation where his con- 
stancy was tempted, he recollected RussellV 
prediction, and was prond to remind him 
how much he had been mistaken. In short, 
the destined time for their return home ar~ 

.rived — Vivian presented himself before his 
mother, and clainaed her promise. She 

.was somewhat surprised, and a little disap- 
pointed, by our hero's constancy ; but she 

:CouId not retract her word ; and, since her 
rompliancr; was now unavoidable, she wa» 



VIVIAN. 3S 

^termined that it should be grncjons. Sbe 
wrote to SeUna,. therefore, with great kind- 
saying, that whatever news of other 
connexions she might formerly have had " 
&r her son, she had now relinquished them, 
eonvinced, by the constancy of her son's at- 
tachment, .and by the merit of it's object, 
tiiat his own choice wonld most efFectnally 
ensure his happiness, and that of all hia 
friends. Her ladyship added expressions of 
"Tier reg,ard and esteem, and of the pleasure 
Ae felt in the thoughts of finding, in her 
■daugliter-in-law, a friend and coni])anion; 
ose society was peculiarly agreeable to 
ier taste, and suited to her character. This 
fcttei* entirely dissipated Selina's scniples of 
conscience; Vivian's love and merit," all 
ins good', and all his agreeable qualities, had 
now full and nnreproved poiver to work 
apon her tender heart. His generous, open 
temper, his candour, his wai-m attachment 
io his friends, his cultivated understanding, 
'Ma brilliant talents, his easy, weli-bredi 
igreeable manners, all heightened in their 
'^wer to please by the charm of love, jus'^ 
l:tii!ed, even in the eyes of the aged and pni- 
ient,- the passion he inspired. SeliTuv-ise-- 
c 5 



i 



came ejEtremeiy attached to him, aad she 
loved with the delifihttul belief, that there 
was UQt, in the luiud oC her lover, the seed 
ot a tiiuglc vice, which tlivesteued danger to 
his virtu«» ur to their luutonl happiucsa. 
With Uis tisoal candour, he had laid opea 
his whole c'hiiractcr to her, as far as he 
knew it himself, and had warned her of 
. that vacillation of temper, that easiness to 
be led, wiiich Russell hnd pointed out as a 
<ia«g«rons fault in his disposition. But of 
thip propensity Seliiia had seen no symp^ 
toms; ou the coutnu*)', tlie steadiness of har 
Ipver in lus attachmsnt to her — the only 
poiat QQ which she had yet seen him tried — - 
decided her to trust to the persuasive voice of 
love a^d hope, and to believe, that Russell's 
friendship had, in this instance, been too 
fjMsh or too timorous in it's forebodings. 

Noting now delayed the marriage of 
Vivian aad Seliaa but certain l^al rite^ 
w^ich were to be performed on his coming 
fii: age. There wore certain fines and re- 
tKtveries to be suffered, and certain deeds ' 
(^- lease and release to be executed, be~ 
i4>rg marriage settlements could be drawn; 
iu)d,th« paxti^ were doomed. to waitfor thi 



VIVIAN; 35 

arrival of some trustee who was with his 
regiment abroad. All these delays Vivian^ 
of course^ cursed ; but, upon the whole^ they 
were borx>e by him iVilh-lieroifc patience^ and 
by Selina with all the tranquillity of confid- 
ing love, happy in the present, and not too 



w 



CHAPTER II. 



"My dear Russell," said Vivian, "love 
sliall not make me forget friendship. Before 
I mai'ry, I must see you provided for. Be- 
lieve me, this was the first — one of the first 
pleasures 1 promised myself, in becoming 
master of a good fortmie. Other tlioughts, 
I confess, have put it out of my bead — so 
now, let me tell you at once — 1 hate paltry 
snrprises with my friends — I have, you 
know — or rather, probably, yoa do not know, 
for you are the most disinterested fellow 
'upon Earth^ — I have an excellent living in ■ 
my gift: it shall he yours — consider it as 
such, from this moment. If I knew a more ■ 
deserving man, I would give it to him, upou * 
my honour — so you can't retiise me. The 
incumbent can't live long — he is an old, very 
old, infirm man ; you'll have the living in 
a year or two, and, in the mean time, stay 
with me. I ask it as a favour, from a 
frieod; and yoa see bow much 1 want a 



VIVIAN. 37 

friend of yoar firm character ; and I hope 
you aee, also, how much I can value, in 
.others, the qualities in which I am m;^self 
deficient," 

Rnssell was mach pleased and touched 
"tiy Vivian's generous gratitude, and by the 
'.delicacy, as well as kindness, of the manner 
which he made this offer: but Russell 
conld not,, cousisteiitlv with his feelings or 
his principles, live in a state of dependant 
(idleness, waituig for a rich living and the 
■death of an. old incanihent. He told Vinan, . 
>l2iat he bad too much afiertion for him, and 
too much respect for himself, ever to run the 
hazard of sinking from the rank of an inde>- 
!|)endent friend. After rallying him, without 
ieffect, on hh pride,Vivian acknowledged, that 
he was. forced to admire him the more for his 
ipirit. Lady Mary, too, who was a grea^t 
and sincere admirer of independence of ch^ 
iracter, warmly applauded Mr. Russell, and 
recommended him, in the highest terms, to ' 
a nobleman, in the neighbourhood, who 
Hiappened to.be in want of a preceptor for 
iliis eldest son. This nobleman was my 
ird Glistonbury : his lordship was eager to 
igage a person of RnsscU's reputiition for 



r 



ti^etits ; e« the affair was quickly arraogeJ, 
mill lady Mary Vivinn and ber son went tfr 
pay a morning visit ut Glistonbni'y Coetlfe, 
on pur|)i)se to accom|)any Rnsaell on big ftrit' 
introHnction to the family- As they ap- 
proached the castle, Vivian was stm(^ 
with it's venerable gothic appeHranre; he 
had not had a near view of it for gome 
ytars, and he looked at it with new eyet, 
Formerly, lie bad eeen it only as a pictu- 
resque ornament to the country ; but now 
that lie wiis himself possessor of an esttite' 
in the vicinity, he considered Glistoiibmy 
Castle as a point of comparison, which ren- 
dered bim dissatisfied with his own maH^ 
sion. As he drove up the avenue, and 
beheld tlie towers, turrets, battlements, anA 
massive entrance, his mother, who was a 
woman of taste, slTCngthened, by her ex- 
clamations on the beanty of gothic archi- 
tfectnre, the wish that was rising in his mind, 
tb convert his modem house into an ancient 
eastle ; she conid not help sighing, whilst 
she reflected, that if her son's aflections hact 
ntft been engaged, he might, perhaps, havtt 
obtained the heart and hand of one of thje 
fair- dnnghfers of this castle. Lady Maiy 



V I V r A pr. 39 

Went no farther, ©«cn in her inmost thotigh^a, 
fur she was no doable deajtrp, no Mtrigante: 
Blie had ex|>ressed her dii^appoliitmcnt and 
'ttngvv wiirmly and openly at first, when she 
beard of htr son's attachment to niiss Sid- 
ney i but that Tonng lady's i:onduct had 
now \roii her ladphtp's consent to h«r son's 
marriu^ ; and, iocapftble of donhle dealing, 
kdy Mary resolved nuver even to let hint 
know what her wishts hud buen with re- 
l8|KTt to a connexion with the (liistonbnry 
Nfaniily. But tlie very reserve -dad discretion 
•with which her ladyship spoke — a reserve 

K mutual with her, and uasuited tu the aa- 
nral warmth of her maniitir and temper — 
might have betrayed her to an acate an($ 
«ool obssrvet, Vivian, ho^vever, at this 
instaut, was tuo miuih tnteat upon castle- 
bnilding to admit any other ide<ts. 

» When the earring drove under the great 
l^ateway and atoppe<i, VtvUiu exclatmedr 
•' What a fine old castle! bow snrinised 
S*lina Sidney would be, bow delighted, to 
see toy hunse metamorphosed into such a 
^ftStlel" 
k " It is.antagnifieeut castle, indeed !** said 

1 1ftdyMary, >vitb a^igh^ " I think there are 



r 



46* VIVIAN. 

the lady Lidhursts on the terrace. Anff 
here comes my lord Glistonbury with hiji 
■on." 1 

** My pupil ? " said Russetl ; " I hope the^ 
youth is SHch as I can become attached toil* 
Life would be wretched indeed without aO-* 
tachment — of some sort or other. But H 
must not expect," added he, " to find a se*^ 
cond time a friend in a pupil — and such a1 
irieud!" ^ 

Sentiment, or the expression of the ten*-' 
derness he felt for his friends, was so iin« 
-usual from Russell, that ithad tlouble effect^^ 
and Vivian was so much, struck by it, thalH 
he could scarcely collect his thoughts ii^ 
time to fipeak to lord Glistonbury, who! 
oame to receive his gnests, attended by three* 
hangers on of the family, a chaplain, a cap-i 
tain, and a young lawyer. His lordship* 
■was scarcely past the meridian of life ; yet,S 
in spite of his gay and debonnair manner5i 
he looked old, as if he was paying for th'e* 
libertinism of his youth by piematnre de- • 
crepitude. His countenance announced'*^ 
pretensions to ability : his easy and affablft''^ 
address, and the facility with which he ex-* 
jffessed himselfj gained him credit, at firsts ■^ 



VIVIAN. 41 

ibr much more understanding than he realhy 
(possessed. There wan a platisihility m all 
fbe said ; but, if it was cxiuuinetl, there was 
.nothing in it bat nonsense. Some of his 
.expressions appeared brilliant; some of his 
■eotiinents jnxt; htit thtre >Fas a want of 
^consistency, a want of a jiervading mimi 
[in his conversation, whidi, to good jndges, 
Strayed the trutli, that all his opinions 
;flFere adopted, not formed ^ all his maxims 
(Common place ; his wit mere re|ietition ; his 
lense merely tact. 9Vfter proper thanks 
^and compliments to lady Mary and Mr. 

Klvian, for securing for him snch a treasuie 
Mr. Ressell, he introduced lord Lid- 
-iiarst, a sickly, bashful, yet assured looking 
,tioy of fourteen, to his new governor, with 
[polite expressions of unbounded confidence, 
and a rapid enunciation of undefined and 
contradictory expectations. 

' Ml". Russell wiU, 1 am perfectly pep- 
iimitded, make Lidhurst every thing' we can 
idesire," said his lordship ; " an honour to 
■Jlis country j an ornament to his family. 
iJt is my decided opinion, that man is but 
1 bnudle of habits ; and it's ray maxim,. 



*tS VIVIAN. 

that wfucadon i« second uattire ~~jirsi, id- 
deed, ia many cast's. For, except that I am 
staggered about original geirios, I own t 
conceive, with Hartley, that early iniptes- 
sioQs and asMOciations are all in all : his vi- 
brations and vibratianclea are quite 'satis- 
factory. But what I particnlarly wish for 
X-idhnrst, sir, is, that he ehonld be trffinttl 
ai sotm as possible into a statesman. Mt*. 
Vivian, I presmnc, you mean to foUoW trp 
public business, and no doubt will make *a 
figure. So I ^TopHecy — and I am nsctl 
to these things. And from Lidhnrst, t«j, 
nixler similar tuition, I may with feasdn 
expect miracles — ' hope to hear him thtfflt- 
dering in the house of commons in a fefr 
years — ' confess 'am not quite so impatfent 
to have the yoong dog hi the house tf 
incuntblcs ; for yoa know he could not bb 
there without baing in my shoes, which f 
hare not done with yet — ha! hat hal 
Each in his toni, my boy ! — In the uJeM* 
time, iarty Mary, shall M-e join the ladiBfc 
yonder, on the terrare. Lady Glistonbnrjr. 
walks so slow, that she wll he seven houf» 
^ia coming to vs, so we had b^t go to hri| 



VIVIAN. 43 

Itgflygfaip — K Ae inoBQt^i won't go to 
jIlutfwMi^ yoe kaov, of course, vhat 

Om tJtteir way to the t«tTace, lord (^is- 
iPRbaryj who a}nay8 iKwd bimscif speak 
hvitb .singolar cowjptiioraicy, continued to 
bis ideiis oa education ; soinetiaies 
H^pealiog to Mr. RnsseU, sometimes happy 
4e catch the eye of lady Mary. 

' Now, my idea for Lidhurst is simj^ 
Ibis: — that he should know every thing 
ibat is in alt the best 4loc^ in the library, 
bnt yet that he shonld be the farthest poi- 
lible frou) a book-wwm — that he Ehould 
«ver, except in a set speech in the honse, 
bave the air of having opened a booh in his 
lUe — mother wit for ine i — m most cases 
ft— and that «lfiy style of oripinniity, ^vh^ch 
i^owa the true gentleman — As tu morals 

- Lidhnrst, walk on my boy as to 

norals, I confess I conldn't hear to see any 
liitng of the Juseph Surface about him. A 
^yoath of spirit must, yon know, Mr. Viviasi 
-excuse me, lady Mary, this is an aside 
-be something of a latitadinarinn to 
keep in the fashion — not that I mean to say 
9 oactly to Lidhurst — No. no ! ~ on thci 



f 



44 VIVIAN. 

coBtraryj Mr. Russell, it is oor cue, as well 
as this reverend gentleman's," looking bade 
at the chaplain, who howed assent before be 
knew to what — " it is onr cne, an well as 
this reverend gentleman's, to preach pni- 
dence> and temperance, and all the cardinal 
virtnes." 

" Cardinal virtnes ! very good, faith ! ray 
lord," said the lawyer, looking at the cler- 
gyman. 

** Tempei'ance !" repeated the cliapliuil, 
winking at the irilicPr ; " iipon my Boul, my 
lord, that's too bad." 

"Prudence!" repeated the captaii 
" that's too clean a cat at poor Wicksti 
my lord ." ' 

Before his lordship had time to preacli- 
aoy more prudence, they arrived within- 
bowing distance of the ladies, who had, i»-' 
deed, advanced at a very slow rate. Vivian 
was not acquainted with any of the ladies 
of the Glistonbury family; for they had,, 
till this summer, resided at another of their 
conntry seats, in a distant county. His 
mother had ofteu met them at parties in- 
town.. 4 

Lady Glistonbury was a thin, stiffenecl,r 



liainu 
ste^ 



Battened figure — she was accompanied by l 
tiFo other female forms, one old, the other 
yoong; not each a diiFereiit grace, hut 
dike all three in angularity, and in a cold 
haughtiness of mien. After reconnoitring, 
nith their glasses, the party of gentlemen, ' 
these ladies cjulckened their step ; and lady 
Glistonbury, mitking hei' countenance as af- 
fable as it was in it's nature to be, ex- 
claimed — 

My dear lady Mary Vivian 1 have I -the 
pleasure to see your ladyship ? — They told , 
me it was only visitors to my lord," 

Mr. Vivian had then tlie honour of 
'Veing introduced to her ladyship, to her 
eldest daughter, lady Sarah Lidhnrst, and M 
^ miss Strictliuid, the governess. By all , 
iif these ladies lie was most graciously re- 
ceived ; but poor Russell was not so fortu- 
lunate ; nothing could be more cold and re- 
pulsive than their reception of him. This 
'<lid not make lady Sarah appear very agree- 
able to Vivian 4 he thought her, at this first 
TJew, oue of the least attractive young wo- 
juen he liad ever beheld. 

" Where is my Julia?" intjuired lord 
Glistonbury — " Ah ! tliere she goes, yon- ) 
■der, all life and spiiits." | 



- Viriaa looked as his lontsliip directed 
his eye, and saw, at tbe tiirthest end of the 
terrace, a young girl, of alwut fifteen, ran- 
niiig verv fust, with a hoop, wliicb she was-' 
keeping up with great dexterity for tlw 
amusement of a little boy, wito was with hot,- 
The gov«rne»» no sooner saw tliis, than she 
went in pursuit of her young ladyshipj oail- ' 
ing after her, in. viu'ious tones and pllraseS' 
of reprehension, in French, Italinn, and-' 
Hng^h.; and asking, wliether this was a 
"becoming employment for a voung lady of. 
her age and rank. Htiedless of these re- 
proaches, lady Julia still ran on, aivov froia 
her governess, " to chai?e the rolling circle* 
speed," down the slope of the terrace; thi-» 
ther rniss Strictland dared not pursue, btf(^ 
contented herself with standing on- thtfl 
brink)' reiterating her remonstrances. A^ 
length, the hoop fell, and the young \aiif{ 
returned, not to her governess, but, running} 
lightly np the slope of tlie terrace, to heP* 
snrprise, slie came foil in view of the com*rf 
pany before she was aware, that any* 
strangers were there. Her straw hat beingi- 
at the back of her head, lady (ilistonbury, 
Avith an indignant look, pulled it for'-* 
wards. ' 



VtVIAN. 4J 

*'' What a beautiful colour 1 what a sweet 
CQunteoance lady Julia has!" whispered 
lad]^ Marf Vivian to lord Glistouhiiry; at 
the game time she could not refVaiu troin 
glanciug her eyes towards hf r sou, to see 
vhikt effect was produced n])on hiiu. Vi- 
Tiau's eyes met hers ; and tiiis !^iDgl^ ItKik 
of his mothers revealed, to him. all that 
she had, in her great pnitlence, resolved- to 
toiiceal. He smiled at Iter, and then, at 
Russell, aa much as to say, " surely, iltffe 
can be DO couipavison between such a.chUd 
as this and Solina Sidney !" 

A fen'-minutcs afterwaids, in consecjuence 
of a sign from latly Glistoiibury, Julia die- 
l^peared with lier governess, and the mo> 
neut was unuotieed by Vi\ian, who was 
Ahgen, as his niothe>r observed, looking up at 
nmc of the turrets of the old castle. AU it's 
inhabitants were at tliis time uninteresting 
|» liim, exte[)t so far as they regarded his 
ftiead Rus&eU ; but the ca.stle itself absorbed 
ilu a.tteutiun. Lord Glistonbury, cluiruied to 
jscc how much he was struck by it, oAercd 
ito sIiDW him o«er every part of the edifice; 
Ma offer which he and lady Mary gladly ac- 
■ccpted* Lady Glistonbury excused bei-self, 
professing to tje uoable to sustain, tha fa- 



r 



4B« VIVIAN. 

tigue: she deputed her eldest daiigtter to' 
attend lady Mary in her stead ; aad thi» 
was the oaly nrcuiiistance which diini-- 
nished the pleasure to Vivian, for he waati 
obliged to show due courtesy to this stiffiJ 
taciturn damsel at every turn, whilst he was ' 
intent upon seeing the architecture of ihoW 
I castle, and the views from the windows ofl 
I the towers and loopholes of the galleries;' 
aU which iady Sarah pointed out with a' 
coiiKceremoniouE civility, and a formal ex-J 
aotsiess of proceeding, which enraged Vi- 
j vian'fi enthusiastic temper. The visit ended: 
I he railed half the time he was going home'^ 
1 against their fair, or, aS he called licr, their" 
^k petrified guide ; then, full of the gothicfi 
^ beauties of Glistonbiiry, lie determined, aaH 
soon as possible, to turn his own modera^ 
house into a casUe. The very next morn- 
ing, be had an architect to view it, and ta 
esaniinc it's capabilities. It happened, that, 
about this time, several of the noblemen 
and gentry, in the county in which Vivian' 
resided, had been seized with this rage for 
I turning comfortable houses into uninhabit- 
I able castles. And, however perverse or H 
I imi)racticable this retrograde movement in >i 
I arcjjj lecture might seem, there ^vcre always i 



In- 
VIVIAN. 49 
it hand professional projector), to conTineo 
gendeinei), that nothing was so feasible and 
t&Kj. Provided always, that gentlemeB ap- 
prove tbeir estimates, a« well as their plans, 
they nndertake to carry buildings back, in 
a trice, two, or three, or half a down een- 
tories, as may be re<|mred, to make tlieni 
gaChic, or saracenic, and to " add every 
grace, that time alone can give," A few 
days after Vivian had been at Ciiatonbury 
Castle, when lord Glistoiibury came to re- 
fcnrn the \ieit, Russell, who accompanied 
kis lordship, found his friend encompassed 
with plans and elevations. 

" Surely, my dear Vivian," said he, 
eisiDg the first montent he conld 
speak to him, " you are not going to 
spoil this excellent homte ? It is com- 
pletely finished, in handsome, modem ar- 
diitectnre, perfectly comfortable and con- 
Ttinieat, light, airy, large enmigb, warm 
vmms, wcjl distributed, with ample means 
■f getting at eiich apartment; and, if vou 
: about to new model and transform it 
into a castle, yon must^ I see, by your plan, 
•Iter the proportions of almost every room, 
i spoil the comfort of the whole; turn 
VOL. r, D » 



square to round, and roiuid again to square ;. 
and, worse than all, turn light to rl»rkness — ■ 
only for the sake of having what is called 
a castlcj bnt what has not, in fact, any thing 
of the grandeur or BoHd inagnificeDce of a 
real ancient edifice. These modern, bahy- 
house miniatures of castles, which gent!e-i 
men ruin themselves to build, are, after all, 
the most piiltry, absurd things imagin- 
able." 

To this Vivian was, after some dispnte, 
forced to agree ; but he said, " that bia 
should not be a baby-house ; that he would 
go to any expense to imike it really mag- 
nificent." 

" As magnificent, I suppose, as Gliston- 
bnry Castle :" 

" If possible : — that i<i, I confess, the ob- 
ject of my emulation." 

" Ah," said Kussell, shaking Ills head 
" these are the objects of ciuulatiun 
for which country gentlemen often ruin 
themselves ; barter their independence 
and real respectability ; reduce them- 
selves to distress and di^graee : these are 
the objects for whicli they tiell either 
their estates or their country ; become 



VIVIAN. 51 

placeiaen or beggars ; and end either in 
the liberties of the King's Bench or thCi 
slaveries of St. James's," 

*^ Impossible for me ! you know my pub- 
lic principles," said Vivian ; " and you know, 
that I think the life of an independent coun- 
try gentleman the most respectable of all 
others — you know my principles.'* 

*^ I know your facility," said Russell : ^^ if 
you begin by sacrificing thus to your taste, 
do you think you will not end by sacrificing 
to your interest ? " 

"Never! never!" cried Vivian, 

*^ Then you imagine, that a strong temp- 
tation will not act where a weak one has. 
be«n found irresistible." 

" Of this I am certain," said Vivian : 
*^ I could never be brought to sell my coun-. 
try, or to forfeit my honour." 

*^ Perhaps. not," said Russell : ^^ you might, 
in your utmost need, have another alterna- 
tive ; you might forfeit your love ; you * 
might give up Selina Sidney, and marry for 
money — all for the sfike of a castle ! '* 

Struck by this speech, Vivian exclaimed, 
" I would give up a thousand castles, rather 
than run isuch a hazard ! " 

D 2 



r 



¥ 



-VIVIAN. 

" Letns then coolly calculate," said Rus- 
sell. " What would the castle cost you ? " 

Tiie expense, even by the esthnates of 
the architects, whicii, in the execution, are 
usually doubled, was enormous, finch as 
Vivian acknowledged was oosuited even to 
his ample, i'ortuue. His fortune, thongli 
considerable, was eo entailed, that he would, 
if be exceeded his iatome, be soon reduced 
to difficulties for ready money. But then, 
his mother had sererat thousands in the 
stocks, which she was ready to lend him, to 
forward this e as tie-building. It was a pro- 
ject uiuch pleased lier taste, and gratified 
her aristocratic notions. 

Vivian iissured his friend, at parting, that- 
fais reason was convinced; that he would 
not yield to the whiias of taste, and that be 
would prudently give «p his folly. So he 
determined : be abided by Iiis determination 
till he heard numbers speak on the other 
side of the question. With Vivian, those . 
-who spoke htst frequently seenied to speak 
heat ; and, in general, the number of voices 
overpowered the weight of argument. By 
the persuasions of his mother, the example 
pf his neighbours, and the urgency of ar- 



L 



VIVIAN. 55 

elihects, and men ot' taste, wlio got alx>ut 
liim soon afterwards, lie was convinced, that 
there was no living withoBt a castle, and 
:that ttie expense would be nf-rt to nothing 
tt all. Convinced, we shutild iiol say. 
For be yielded, against his conviction, from 
mere want oi power to resist reiterated soli- 
citations. He had no other motive ; for 
the enthusiasm raisetl by the view of Glis- 
tonhnry Castie bad passed away; he plainly 
,w, what Russell had pointed out to him, 
lat be shonld spoil the inside of his house 
for the sake of the outside; and, for his own' 
^srt, he preferred comfort to show. 'It 
was not, therefore, to please his own taste, J 
that lie ran into this imprudent expense, but ■ 
inerely to gratify the taste of otherfi. J 

Now the bustle of bnilding began, and ; 
workmen swarmed ronnd his bonse ; the 
■foandations sunk, the scaflblds rose; and 
many times did Vivian sigh and repent, i 
when he saw bow much was to be nndone 
before any thing conid be done ; when he 
found his house dismantled, saw the good 
ceilings and elegant cornices knocked to 
pieces, saw the light domes and modem j 
sashes give way j all taken oat to be re- j 



1 



r 



I 



'Si V 1 V I A N. 

placed, at profuse expense, by a clumBy 
iiaitatiuD of gutliic: how often did he sigft 
and falcnhite, when he saw the tribes of 
workmen file otF as their dinner beH 
rang! how often did he bless himself^ whe» 
he beheld the hnge beams of timber draggea- 
into his yards, and the solid masses of stone 
brought from a qnarry, at an enormons dis^ 
tance \ — Vivian perceived that the expense 
would be treble the estimate ; and said, that 
if the thing was to do again, he would never 
consent to it, bnt now, as lady Mary ob- 
setred, it was too late to repent ; and it waa, 
atany rate, best to go on and finish it with 
■pint — • since it was impossible (nobody 
knows why) to sto2>. He hnrried on the 
workmen with impatience ; for he was anxl* 
oas to have the roof and some apartment* 
in his castle fini^ihed, beiore his maniagc, 
as be thought this would be an agreeable 
surprise to his bride. Thf diUitoriness of 
the lawyers, and the wiint ut' tbc trustee, 
who had not yet arrived in England, were 
no longer complained of so grievously by 
the lover. Rnssell, one day, as he saw Vi- 
vian overlooking his workmen, and urging 
them to expedition, smiled, and asked, whe- 



VIVIAN. 56 

iLer the impatience of an arthitect, or uf 
4 lover, was uow predoininiint in liis mind. 
Vivian, nitlier ofleuilcd by die question, re- 
lied, tliat his eageraess to fiiiibh this part 
flf his ciistle arose from liis desire to give 
AD ngrceabk surprise to bis liride ; and he 
^clared, tliat his passion for Selina was as 
«dent, at this moment, as it had ever been ; 
«twt that it was impossible to make lawyers 
aBove fiister than their accustomed pace ; 
'ind that miss Sidney was too secure of his 
■ftSection, and \is too well convinced others, 
to feel that sort of anxiety, which persons, 
*lio had less confidence in each other, 
anight experience in similar circumstances. 
iQThis was all very tme, and very reasonable ; 
but Russell could not help perceiving, that 
iTivian's language and tone were somewhat 
iltered since the time when he was ready 
[o brave Heaven and Earth to marry his 
mistress, without license or consent of 
fiends, without the possibility of waiting a 
niew mouths, till he was of age. In fact, 
iitiiotigh Vivian would not allow it, this 
Consent of friends, this ceasing of opposi- 
this security and tranquillity of hap- 
qiiuess, had considerably changed the ap- 



r 



jOt6 VIVIAN, 

pearance, at least, of hU love. I>ady Mar^r 
perceived it, \r\t\i a rt; soltitiuii to say nothiag^ 
iuid see liew it ^totild end. Seliaa did noft 
peri'«rve it for some time ; tor sbc was o€. 
a most uuisuspiciuus. temper ; and her coibs 
£dence ia Vivian was et^ual to tht^ fundiieeft 
of ber lov€. SLe began to think, indeed 
that tbe lawyers ^vere provokingiy alow^ 
and, wh«il Vivian did nut blatiie theiu 10^^ 
mueli is be us«d to do, bhtf only thouglit^ 
that he iinderstoed Uisiiiess ijettcr than sh* 
did — besides, th« necessary trustee was nofe 
come — and, in short, the last thing tludn 
occurred to ber mind was to blanie Vivian..- . 
Tbe trustee at length arrived, and tW 
castle was almost in the wished for state afi 
foi-waidness, when a new cause of delay^ 
aroee — a county election: hot how 
electioQ was bronght on, and how it wa»l 
condncted, it is necessary to record, ife^t 
happened, that a relation oi' Vivian's wasf 
appointed to a new seventy-four gnn shif^ , 
of which he came to take the command at 
PlymtHith, which wa« within a few miles of-, 
him. Vivian lecollectetl, Uiat his friend «* 
Russell had often expressed a desire to ^J 
on boaj:d a man of war. Vivian, therefurcji 



VIVIAN. 57 

after having appointed a day for their go- 
h^, went to Glistonlrary, to invite Rtisselt : 
bis popil, lord Lidhurst, hegged to be per- 
mitted to accompany them : and lady Jullft, 
the moment she heard of this new scventf- 
faur gTin ship, was, aa her governess ex- 
jiressed it^ wild to be of' the party. Indeed, 
sny thing, that had the name of a partv of 
pleasure, and that promised a transient re- 
lief from the tedioas monotony in which her 
iavs passed ; anv thing, that tjave a (:h«nce 
•f even a few hours' release from the bon* 
in wliich she was held between the i"e- 
lltraints of the most rigid of governesses 
4ltd the prondest of mothers, iippeiired de- 
fightfol tu this Hvely and cliildlsh girl. She 
Jersecnted her governess with entreaties', 
jtill at last ahc made miss Strictland go with 
Iter petition to lady Glistonhary ; wliilaP, 
tli« mean time, lady Jnlia overwhelmed 
tathcr with CLiresse?, till he consfented'; 
\i, with rnnch diffienlty, prevailed np6a 
Ijady Glietonbnry to give her permissicrft 
ir the young ladies to go with their goi- 
irae33, their brother, their father, an3 
dy Mary Vivian, on this excupsion. The 
UvitatioD was now extended to all th^ com'- 
D 5 



r 



i^ VIVIAN, 

pany then at the castle; inclnding the re- 
presentative of the county, who, Ijeing jost 
threatened with a fit of the gout, hrougbt 
on hy hard drinking at the last election, 
expressed some relnctance to going ■with 
this party on the water. But this gentle- 
man was now paying liis hmnhle devoirs to 
the lady Sarali Lidhurst ; and it was repre- 
sented to him, Ijy all who understood the 
ground, that he would give mortal offence, 
if he did not go ; so it was mled, that, hot 
or cold, gout or no gout, he mnst appear 
in the lady Sarah's train : he suhmitted to 
this pferilous necessity in the most gallant 
manner. The day proved tolerably fine — 
Vivian had an elegant entertainment pro- 
vided for the company, niider a marquee, 
pitched on the shore — they embarked in 
a pleasure boat — lady Sarah was very sick, 
and her admirer very cold ; hut lady Julia 
was in ecstasies at every thing she saw and 
felt -^ she feared nothing, found nothing 
incoftveoient — was charmed to be drawn 
so easily from the boat up the high side of 
the ship — charmed to find herself on deck 
• — charmed to see tlie sails, the ropes, the 
rlggiiig, the waves^ the sea, the snn, th« 



clouds, the sailors, the cook dressing din- 4 

ner — all, all iDdiscriminately channed her; .fl 

Mad, like a sfhool girl broke loose, she ran >\ 

.about, wild with spirits, asking questions, | 

some sensible, some silly; laughing at her * 

own folly, flying from this aide to that, '| 

from one end of the ship to the other, down i] 

'tile ladders, and up again, whilst Mr. Ros- ,■; 

lell, who was deputed to take care of her, - ' 

;conld scarcely keep up with her: lord Glis- li 

itonbnry stood by, holding his sides and i^ 

llaughing aloud: miss Strictland, quite dis- 4 

tabled by the smell of the ship, was lying on J 

I bed, in the state cabin -, and lady Saj'ah, « 

I ell the time, shaded by an umbrella, held t 

4)y her shivering admirer, sat, as if chained i 

iSpright, in her chair of state, upon deck, | 

VL-oruing her sister's childl-ih levity, and 4 

(jiroving herself, with all due propriety) in- 4 

»pable of being moved to surprise or ad- ^ 
oiration by any object on land or sea. 
Lady Mary Vivian, while she observed, 

with a quick eye, all that passed, and read 

ther son's thoughts, was tiilly persuaded, 4 

►that neither of the lady Lidhursts would ^ 
lie likely to suit his taste, even if his afiec- 

tions were disengaged: tfie one was too 



1 



childish, the otlier too stiff. " Yet theiv 
birth and conni-xitins, and their consequencs 
in the county," thonght lady Mary, " wonld 
have made their alliance highly desirable." 
Every body seemed wearv at the close of thi». 
day's entei'taiumeat, except lady Julia, who 
kept it up with indefatigable gayety, and 
4:ouId hardly believe, that it was tiroe to gU 
Irome, when the boat was announced to rovr 
them to shore: heedless, and absolntely<, 
dizzy with talking and laughing, her lady^t 
ship, escaping Iroin tlie assistance of satlorS 
and gentlemen, made a ftJse stejj in getting' 
into the boat, and, falling over, would liavi 
rank for ever, but for Mr. Hnssell's preseiwM 
of mind. He seized her with a strong 
grasp, and saved her. Tlie fright soberoift 
her completely ; and she sat, ivrappcd Iw 
great coats, as silent,- as tractable, and 
as wet as possible, during tlie remaindeS' 
of the way to shore. The screams, the. 
ejaculations, tlie reprimands from missi 
Strictland ; the qnestions, the reflection^, 
to which this incident led, may possibly ba 
conceived, but cannot be enumerated, 

Tbia event, however alarming at the 
mcnt, had no serious consequences for lady 



VIVIAN. 6] 

Julia, nbo caiight neither f«Ver nor col^ 
though miss Strictland was tiioi-ally certain 
her ladyship would have one or the other j: 
Indeed she insinnated, that her ladTsbip- 
deserved to have hoth. Lady Sarah's ]}oor 
sbiverii^ knight of the shire, however, ditf 
not escape so well. Obliged to row home;. 
in n damp evening, without his great coafyi 
which he had been forced to offer to lad^ 
Jnlia, io a pleasure boat, when he should 
have been ia ilannelt, or ut bed, he hadi 
" Cause to me tlie boating of this day.1 
His usual panacea of the gout did not come^ 
an expected, to set him up again. The cold 
he cuoght tliis day killed bim. Lady Saralr 
Ltdhnrst was precisely as sorry as decoruiie 
recinired. But the bustle of a new electioit 
was soon to obliterate tlie memory of th& 
old member, in the minds of his nmneroTts 
friends. Lord Gli&tonbuiT, and several 
other voices in the county, called npon 
Vivian to stand on the independent intereat* 
There was to be a contest ; for a govemfj 
inent candidate declared himself at thai 
eane niometit that application was made tar 
Vivian. Tlie expense of a contested ele(]|| 
tiou alarmed both \''iviaii and his motbw 



r 



W VIVIAN. 

Gratified as she was, hy the honour of this^ 
offer, yet she had the prudence to advise i 
her son, rather to go into parliament as re- -J 
presentative for a horoiigh, than to hazard J 
the expense of a contest for the county; id 
Miss Sidney, also, whom he consulted upon * 
this occasion, supported his mother's pni- • 
dent advice, in the most earnest manoeri^ 
and Vivian was inclined to follow this * 
counsel, till lord Glistonbory came oneU 
morning to plead the contrary sich' of the '^ 
question : he assnfed Vivian, that, from hii 4 
experience of tlie county, he was morally ^ 
Certain they should carry it without tronlile-, • 
and with no expense toortk mentioning. 4 
These were only general phrases, to be sure, 1 
not arguments ; but fliese, joined to her am- -^ 
bition, to see her son memlier for the county, 1 
at length overpowered lady Mary's hettcF 4 
judgment: her urgent entreaties were now 4 
joined to those of lord GHstonbnry, and of i 
many loud tongued electioneerers, who i^ 
proved to Vivian, by every thing but cal- 4^ 
ctdation, that he must be returned, if he *|j 
■would but stand — if he would only declare i 
himself. Russell and his own prudence ■ 4 
itrongly counselled him to resist these cla- i 



VIVIAN. 63 

morons importunities ; the two preceding 
candidates, wliose fortunes bad been nearly , 
as good as his, had been mined hy the con- 
tests. Vivian was very yonng;, bnt jiist of 
age; and Russell observed, "that it woold 
be better for him to see something more of 
the world, before he should embark in po^ 
litics, and plunge into public business" . 
*' True," said Vivian; "bnt Mr. Pitt wa« 
only three and twenty, when he was minister' 
of England. I am not ambitious, bnt I 
should, certainly, like to di.stinguish myself, 
if I could; and whilst I teel in yonth the 
glow of patriotism^ why should not I serv* 
my country?" 

" Ser\-e it, and welcome," said Russell;, 
" hut don't begin by raining yourself by a 
Contested election, or else, whatever glow of. 
patriotism you may feel, it will be out of 
your power to be an lionest member of par- 
liament. If you must go into parliament, 
immediately, for the good of yonr countr^ 
go in as member for some borongh, whicKi 
will not ruin you." 

" But the committee of our friends Avift 
be so disappoiuted, if I decline; and inj 
mother, who has now eet her heart upon iq 



I #ft VIVIAN. 

I and lord Gliatoiibory, and Mr. C— , an2 

I Mr. G , and Mr. D ,ivbo are sachzea- 

S lous friends, and whourge me so much ." 

I" Judge tor yourself," said Russell; "and 
don't let any persons, who happen to be 
t tiear you, persuade you to see with their 
I eyeSf and decide with their wishes. Zealons 
I friends, indeed! — because they lovetoniak& 

i themselves of" consequence, by bawling and 
ecauipering abont at an election ! — And you 
Would let such people draw you on to ruio ^ 
yourself," t 

" I will show yen, that they shall not," 
cried Vivian, seizing a sheet of paper, and ^ 
sitting down iainiediately to write the copy g 
of a circular letter to his friends, informing 
them, with many thanks, that he declined 
to stand for the founty. Ruasell eagerly ]| 
■wrote copies of this letter, which Viviaii de- 
clared should be sent early the next morrkiug. 
But no sooner was Russell out of sight, than 
lady Mary Vivian resumed her aliments 
in favour of commencing hte canvass imme- 
diately, and before his friends should cool. 
When she saw the letters, that he had been 
writmg, she was excessively indignaat ; and, 
I 1»y a torrent of female aud Watermil elo- 



VIVJAN. as 

qneace, he was absolutelr oTfrwlitlmed. 
Auiiliaries poured in to h«r ladyship on ail 
jides; horseman utter horseman, tVeehotders, 
of all decrees, bow flocked to the house, hear- 
ii^ that Mr. Vivian had thoughts of itand- 
iiig for the rountv. They were nnani- 
moiiiily loud in tlieir axsuriLiices of sncccss. 
Old Mid new copies at' poll b(n>k3 Mera pro- 
duced, and the different interests of the county 
counted and recounted, Imlanced and couiw 
terbalauced, again and aguiii, bvesich pereon, 
jCtfter his own fashion , and it was proved to 
^r. Vivian, in black and tckite, and as plain 
ma figures could malce it, that he had tlie 
g:ame in his own hands ; and that, if he 
flvoold but declare himself, the otfan- caa- 
^idate would, the very next day, they would 
be bound for it, decline the contest. Vi- 
dian liad a elear head, and a competent 
knowledge of arithmetic: he naw the fBll»- 
, ties and iailccnracies in their modes of coni- 
fiatatioQ ; be saw, upon examining the 
books, that tlie state of tlie county iote- ' 
rests was very diflereut from what they pre- 
tended or believed; and he was convinced,^ 
lliat tlie opposite candidate would not de>- 
clJae : but, after ^''ivian had stated these rea* 



Mfl6 V I V r A N. 

Aons ten times, and bis mother and his 
electioneering partisans had reiterated their 
assertions twenty times, lie yielded, merely 
because they liad niiid twice as much as he 
had, and because, poor easy man ! he had not 
power to resist continuity of solicitation. 

He declared himself candidate for the 
county ; and was soon immersed in all the 
toil, trouble, vexation, and expense of a 
contested election. Of course, his marriage 
was now to be postponed, till the election 
should he over. Love and county politics 
have little affinity. What the evils of a 
■contested election are can be fiilly known 
only to those, by whom they have been 
personally experienced. The contest was 
bitter. The Glistonbtiry interest was the 
strongest of all who supported Vivian: lord 
Glistonbury and his lordship's friends were 
warm in his cause. Not that they had any 
particular regard for Vivian ; but he waa 
to be their member, oppost^d to the court 
candidate, whom his lordship was anxious 
to keep out of the county. Lord Gliston- 
hury had once been a strong friend to go- 
vernment, and was thought a confirmed 
corn-tier, especially as he had been brought 



VIVIAN. ti? 
tip ill high, aristocratic ootions; but he had 
made it bis ^reat object to turn bis earldom 
jtito a inanjiiisate: and government havinfj 
delayed, or refused to grsitit'y him in this 
]>oint, he qnitted them with disgust, and , 
(et iij) his standard amongst the opposition. 
He was now loud and zealous on every oc- 
rasioQ that conld, as he said, annoy govern- 
ment; aad, merely becanse he conld not 
be a marquis, he became a patriot. Mis- 
taken, abused name! how glorious in it's ori- 
ginal, how despicable in it's debased signi- 
fication! Lord Giiatonbury's exertions 

were indefatigable. 

Vivian felt much gratitude for this ap- 
parently disinterested friendship; and, dur- 
ing a few weeks, whilst this canvass was 
going on, he formed a degree of intimacy 
with the Glistonbury family; which, in any 
•Other circumstances, conld scarcely have 
ibeen brought about during months or 
^fears. Au election, in England, seems, 
tfor the time, to level all distinctions, not 
.only of rank, bftt even of pride : lady Glia- 
itonbnry herself, at this season, found it ne- 
*fce88ary to relax from her usual rigidity. 
There was an extraordinary freedom of 



r 



egress and recess ; and tlie haughty code 
of GUstoohnry lay dormant. Vivian, of 
eonrse, was the centre of all interest; an^ 
whenever he ap|)eared, every iDdividnal of 
the family was eager to inqnii-e, " What 
Bews^ — What news? — How do things g» 
on to day? — How will the election tncff 
ont? — Have yon written to Mr. snch c 
one ? — Have yon been to Mr. such a one's ?— 
I'll write a note for you — I'll copy a letter.*^ 

There was one commoti eansc — miBT- 

Slrictland even deigned to assist Mr, Vivio^i 
and to try her awkward hand to forwai'd his 
canvass, for it was to auppm-t the GHston- 
bury interest i and " there was no impro- 
priety L-ouId attach to the thing." Rnsseir* 
extreme anxiety made Vivian call more fr^- 
qaently even than it was necessary at the- 
eastle, to quiet bis apprehensions, and tif 
assure him, that things were going on welC 
Young lord Lidhnrst, who was really good 
Matured,, and over whose mind Russell bfrJ 
gan to gain some ascendaHfy, used to stand 
epon the watch for Vivian's appearanco, 
and would run up the back stairs to Russell's 
apartment, to give Iiim notice of it, and to 
he the first to tell the news. Lady Sarah — • 



VIVIAN. 69 

the icy lady Sarah heraeif — began to thaw; 

and every day, Id the eamc phrase, she con- 

^cended to say to Mr. Vivian, that she 

*' hoped the poll was going on as well at 

-could be expected." It was, of conrse, 

reported, that Vivian was to succeed the 

late representative of the county in all his 

hononrs. In eight diiys, he was confidently 

giveuto lady Sarah, by the generous pnblic ; 

and the day of their iHiptials was positively 

fixed. As the lady was, even by the acconnt 

.of her friends, two or three years oldw than 

Mr. Vivian, and fonr or five years older by 

■her looks, and as she was jwcnliarly nn- 

niited to bis taste, he lieard the report with- 

[ iSat the slightest apprebension for his own 

k^COBstancy to Selina. He laughed at the 

fea, as an excellent joke, when it was first 

[cntioned to him by Rnssell. Lord Giis- 

lonbury's laanners, however, and the cordial 

hmiiiarity with which he treated Vivian, 

, every day, increasing credit to the 

•t. " If he was bis son, iny lord conld 

be more aaaiona about Mr, Vivian," 

one of the plain spoken freeholders, 

1 the presence of the lady Lidbnrsts. 

f_ Sarah pursed up her mouth, and ^tvev 



f# V 1 V i A s. 

back her head; but lady Julia, archly loc 
ing at her sister, ttiiilleiJ. The vivacity 
lady Julia's uianner did not appear excessiTi 
during this election time, when all the worli 
seemed mad; on the contraiy, there was, 
her utmost freedom and raillery, that air 
good breeding and politeness, in which 
gar mirth and liberty are always deficienl 
Vivian began to think, that she was becoiMi 
less childish, and that there was somethiogj 
of a mixture of womanish timidity in Iier ap^ 
pearance, which rendered her infinitely mo^R 
attractive. One evening, in partit-ular, whei 
her father having sent her for her niornii 
work, she returned with a basket full of 
Vivian cockade, which she had made with hcQ 
own deUcatc hands, Vivian thought she lookv 
ed " veiy pretty:" her father desired her C(f 
liive them to the person for whom they wertt. 
intended, and she presented them to Mrj 
Russell, saying, " Tliey are for your friends- 
sir." — Vivian thought she looked " verjs 
gritcefol." — Lady Aiary Vivian snppresse^ 
half a sigh, and thought sl^ kept the whoW 
of her mind to herself. These Iiappy dayft 
of canvassing, and this y)Te(/o»i oj' election ^ 
could not last for ever. After polling^tht 



mam 
Thed 



1 



fecnnty to tlie last freeholder, the tontest 
»as at leDgth decided, and Vivian was de- 
dared duly elected. He was chaired, and 
e scattered laoDey with a lavish hand, as 
e passed over the heads of the huzzaing 
populace; and he bad all the honours of an 
velection : the horses were taken from his 
■ carriage, and he was drawn by men, who 
were, soon afterwards, so much intoxicated, 
.that tltey retained no vestige of rationality. 
tJJot only the inferior, but the superior rank 
f electors, as usual npon snch occasions, 
ihnught proper to do honour to their choice, 
■Bnd to their powers of judgment, by drink- 
iDg their member's health, at the expense 
iof their own, till they couhl neither see, 
tear, nor understand. Our hero was not, 
■ any means, fond of drinking, but he 
tonld not reliise to do as others did; and 
lord Glistonbury swore, that now he liad 
[found out, that Vivian could be such aplea- 
lant companion ovi:r a botUe, he should 
laever listen to his excuses in future, 

A few days after this election, parliament 
(jnet for the diapatch of business; and as 
^ome important <[uestion was to come ou, 
if.theiPiembCTs were Bommoped, 



I 



aVk VIVIAN, 

remptory call of the hoase. Vnian vns> 
obliged to go to town iminediatety, tati 
compelled to de&r his maniacs. He re- 
gretted beiQg thus hiirried avruy from Se> 
lina; and, with a thousand tender ami paa- 
si(Hiate expressions, assured her, tliat tb«i 
moment his atteodance on public boainessrJ 
ceuld lie spared, he sbonld liaEtsu to the 
country, to claim his promised happiness. 
ITie castle would l>e tioi&hed by the time 
the session was over ; the lawyers w<m1d 
also have completed their settlements ; and' 
Vivian said he should make every other n«- 
cessai-y preparation, whilst he was in town: 
tbereibre, he urged Seliua, now, to fix th& -., 
time for their marriage, and tu let it be th«<^ 
first week of the recess of parliament. Boti'^ 
miss Sidney, who had great delicacy of feel— k 
iiig and dignity of character, thought thafri 
\ ivian had, of late, shown some i^yinptomsi 
of decreased affection, and that he had be- 
trayed sigON of unsteadiness of character. — ■ i 
In the whole iifikir of the caslle-bnildingj 
and of the election, he bad evidently been led ^ 
hyothers, instead of following his own convic- ^ 
tion: — shewi^iely dreaded that he might, irv 
more iiD|>urtant actions, yield bis judgment 



VIVIAN 7'' 

' to others ; atid iheti What security could she 
lave for his principles ? — He might periiaps, 
lie led into all «orts df fashionable dissipa- 
lioii and vice. Heside these fears, she 
considered, that Vidian was the possessor of 
a large fortune; that his mother had with 
difliculty consented to this match ; tliat he 
was very young, had seen but Httle of the 
world, and might, jierhaps, in fiitore, ifpent 
ot having made, tlHi.4 early iii life, a love 
match. She, therefore, absolutely reftised 
to iet liiiu now bind himself to her by any 
fresh promises. Site desired, that he should 
consider himself as perfectly at liberly, and 
released from all engagement to her. Il 
was evideot, however, from the manner in 
which, she spoke, that she wished to restore 
her lover's liberty for his sake only; and 
that Iier own feelings, however tliey might 
be suppressed, were unchanged. Vivian was 
toadied and charmed by l>er delicacy and 
generosity: in the fervour of his feclingg 
lie swore, that his adi^ctioiis could never 
ciiange ; and be believed what he swore. — 
Lady Mary A'ivian was struck, also, with 
miss Sidney's conduct at this parting; and 
she acknowledged, that it was impossible to 

VOL. V. E 



't* VIVIAN, 

sho* at once more tenderaess- asti 

No. one, however, not even Vivji 

knew how much pain thia separation gave 
Selina. Hev good sense iiiul prudence told 
her, iudeed, that it was best^ both for her 
happiness and Vivian's, tliat he should see 
something more of tlie world, and that she 
should liave souie farther jjroof of tlie stea- 
diness of his attaclinieut, before she sUonlA 
unite herself with him irrevocablyj but^ 
whilst she endeavoured to fortify her inindi 
with these reflectioiiB, love inspired 
paiaful f^arb ; and, though sfaeucverrepenteA 
having set him free finom his promises a 
engagements, she trembled for the conseM 
peaces of his being thus at liiiei'ty, in s\xdm 
scenes of temptatiou,' as a London life wool 
present. 

" My dear," said Mrs. Sidney ta la 
daughter, " the session will soon be over ; 
(unsure it will be a very short one. Andthei 
is not the least danger — especially alter yoi 
having behaved so nobly — there is not tha 
least danger, that Vivian's heart can changes 
No, nor his conduct in any respect; fioi^ 
though bis fortune and station may put hi] 
m the way of dissipated companions,. yet 



VIVIAN. 75 

lias sacb good principles, and such an ex- 
wllent disposition, that I feel (juite secure 
of him." 

. " But then he is so easily led," said 
Selina. 

" That's true, toy dear. But you will 
find', that lie will never he led to do any thing 
urong. I wish," as Mt. Russell says, " he 
bad not been persuaded to build this expeti- 
wve castle, and to go iuto all the expense of 
Aia contested election; however, there's 
Bothing wrong in all this. Every young 
Ban, who comes early into possession of 
"a large fortune, squanders away money on 
some folly or other ; and there's no reason 
to fear, Iwcahse lie was overpersuaded ia 
tfiese cases, which were mere matters of 
te and opinion, that he should yield to th< 
:ample or entreaties of others where prin- 
ciple is concerned ; depend upon it, my dear, 
5 will return to us worthy of you. There 
no preservative, foi" a young man, better 
lanan attachment to an aniiable woman." 
" I suppose this call of the house most 
:e lord Glistonbury to town," said. Selina : 
I wish 1 knew whether all the family go 



W m 

f^^ CHAFfER III. ^^^ 

When our hero arrived in London, an| 
when he was first introduced into fashionJ 
fthle society, his thonghts were so intend 
npon Selina Sidney, that he was in no datfl 
gcr of phmging into dissii>ation. He wi| 
surprised at the eagerness with -which soni|| 
young mem pursued fnvolous pleasures: hfl 
WHS still more astonished at seeing the aps^ 
thy in which others, of his own age, werri 
sunk, and the listless insignifjcanre i^ 
which they lounged away their lives. »< 

The Ciiil of the house, which hronghl 
Vivian to town, brought lord Glistonbun^ 
also, to attend his duty in the honse-of peera* 
with his lordsliip's family came Mr. RusselljT 
tvhom Vivian went to see, as soon and a4 
often as he could. Russell heard, -witli sar4 
tisfattion, the indignant eloquence witW 
which his friend spoke; and only wished' 
fhat th(*e sentiments might last, and that'll 
fashion might never lead him to hukate or"^ 
to tt-lorate fools, whom he now despised. '1 

J 



VT V I A N. ■ TT- 

•* Fn the mean time, tell me how* you* ga^ 
on yourself/' said Vivian ; " how yoti like^ 
your situation here, and your pupil, and^ 
all the Glistonbury family. Let me l)ehind 
the scenes, at once; for, you know, I see^ 
lliem only on^ the stage.'* 

Russell replied, ii> general tferms, that- 
he had hopes lord Lidhurst would turn out' 
well ; and that, therefore, he was satisfied* 
with his situation; but avoided ent|ring' 
into particulars, because he was a confi-' 
den tial person in the family. He thought,* 
that a preceptor and a physician were, iiy- 
some respects, bound, by a siuiilar species of 
honour, to speak cautiously of the maladies* 
of their patients^ or the faults^ of their' pupils. ' 
Admitted into the secrets af families^ they 
should never make use of the confidence re-' 
posed in them, to. the disadvantage qf any^ 
by whom they are trusted; RusseH's strictly '. 
honourable reserve, upon this occasion, was » 
rather provokhig to Vivian^ who, to all' his 
questions, could obtain only the dry answer 
of — "Judge for yourself."^ — The natine ot 
ft town life, and the sort of intercourse 
which capital cities affords, put this very 
little in Vivian's power. The obligations 



lie was ni)<]er to Lord GlistoiibHry, for as-' 
Siistonce at tJtua dedjou, made hjra anxioi 
to show bis torcU)ii(» rcsjjeet and attention H 
and the sort ot" intjojacy, which that elettiooi" 
had broHght mi, was, to a certain degree^ 
kept lip in town. Lady Mary Vivian wn9^ 
cmtptautly one ttt la<ly Glistonbury's cardt 
p^ities; and Vlviaw was frequently at liiaf 
Iprd^hip's dinners. -Considering the cold- 
iWM snd fonaailty of lady GiistonhuryV 
m^)^rs,she was particularly attentive to lady^ 
iUary Viviim; and oiir hero was continnalljri 
n-a atteiidaiit«poa the ladies of the Glistoii-d 
burjr f;^»ily to alS public places. This wiis ht^ 
Off ipeans disa^eeabltf to him, as they wen0 
perwHs &f' high €Gmideration ; and they were? 
sarp of drawing, into their rircle, the very,5 
lieflt compiiiiy. Lady Mary Vivian dI>b! 
served, that it wa« a great advantage to hetf 
SOD to have sntli a house as lord GlistonV, 
I)ury's open to him, to go to whenever he^ 
pleased. Besides the advantage to hiart 
morals, her ladyship was by no means in.^' 
sensible t9 the gmtification her pride i*e»> 
ceived from her son's living in such high" 
company. The report, which had beeU' 
raised in the country, during the election,' 



VIVIAN. 79 

tbat Mr. ^'(viall was going 10 be married to 
iadj- Sarali Lidburst, bow b^an to circa- 
Jat« in town. This was not snqirisin^, 
since a young i»an, in London, «f any for- 
twie or notoriety, can hnriUy daiit-e three 
or foar times, 8HccessI%'e1y, mHiIi t)ic same 
young lady; cannot even sit beside ber, and 
Converse with her, in {mblic, half a dozen 
tknes, without it's being reported, tliat he is go- 
ing to be married to her. Of this, Vidian, dur- 
ing his novidate in town, was not, perhaps, 
snrticiendv aware : he was soon surprised at 
being asked, by almost every one he met, 
when his marriuge with hidy Sarah Lid- 
buret wa« to tfdie plaoe. At first, he con- 
te<nted himself with langhing at these tpes- 
tioR5,tind deckring,ti»atthepewasnotrathin 
th« report : b«t his asaeverntsons i\'ere not be- 
Ke\*ed, they were attribnled lo motives of 
^scretion : be was tcAA, by his conipanions, 
tbat he kcjrt liis owii cociisel Acry W'ell ; hnt 
lliey all knew tke tkhig was to he : ho wiw 
Congrattltated upon his good toitiine, i» 
making sachanescellent match; for thon^, 
As they said, he would have but little 
money with lady Surah, yet the connexion 
was «o great, that he was the luckiest fellov 



8B \ IV I A N. 

u^)on £artli. The degree of importance^ 
whkb the report gave hiin, among the yorin^ 
men of his ac^uuiiitance, and the envy hi 
excited, amused and gratified his- vanitvi 
The sort of conversation he was now in the 
constant fauhit of hearing, both from young 
and old, in all companies, about the marriaget 
of people in the fashionable world, where for- 
tune, and rank, ami cwnnftWoHwere always tho- 
first things spoken of or considered, begait 
inseosihly to influence Vivian's mode of 
spoaijmg, if not of jndging. Before hftl 
iiiiKod in this society, he knew, ])erft:ttly well|, 
that these were the principles by whicfet 
people of the toorld are guided; but, whilsC 
ho had believed this only on hearsay, it ha4 
not ajipeared to him so entirely true and &i 
important, as when he saw and heard it hin^ 
self. The effect of the ophiioiis of a set offing 
people, now he was actually in their societji^ 
and whilst all other society was exclndel^ 
from his jierception, was verytiiilerent honifi 
what he had imagined it might be, when h^I 
was in the coantry or at college. To dw 
our hero jnstice, however, lie was sensihi«' 
of this aberration in his own mind; he baA' 
eense enough to perceive from what caufiOfc 



VIVIAN. 81 

It arose, and steadiness sufficient to adhere 
tB tbe judgments he hiul previously und de-' 
liberately formed. He did not, in materittil. 
points, diange his opinion of bia mistresS; 
he thought her far, far superior to all he* 
saw and heard, amongst the belles who 
were most admired in the fashionable world ; i 
Irat, at the same time, he began to agree- 
with bia mother's former wish, that Selina, 
added to all her other merits, had the ad- 
Wntage of high birth and connexions, or, at 
feast, of belonging to a certain class of high 
company. He determined, that, as soon as 
Ac should be hiswife, he would have her 
introduced to the ye^Jirst societi/ in town; : 
he pleased his imagination with anticipating 
ifce change that would be made in her ap- 
pearance, by the addition of COTtain ele-- 
incies of the mode i he delighted in 
^linking of tbe sensaflon she would j)ro- 
dace, and tbe respect that would be paid to 
lier, as Mrs. Vivian, sun-ounded, as lies 
Vould take care tliat she should be, with alh 
those external signs- of weakli- and fashion, 
-wfaisli command immediate and universal 
homage from the great and little world. 
One day, when Vivian was absorbed in.' 
e5 



J 



these pleasing reveries, Russell startled biiO 
with this qnestion ^- " When are you to b« 
married to lady Sarah Lidburst i " 

** From you sack a. question!" said Vi-; 
"wan. ' 

" Why not from me ? It is a qoestioQf 
that every body aeks from me, becaase I am 
yonr intimate friend ; and 1 should really b« 
ubliged to you, if you would fiimish me widk 
an anaiver, that may give me an air of a. 
little more consequence, titan that wbicift 
I have at present, being forced to answer— ^ 
I don't know." 

" Yon don't know ! — But why do not yoct 
answer. Never! as I do," said Vivian, " to ali 
the fools, who ask me the same question?" ' 

" Because tbey say, that is your answer^ 
and only a come off"" 

" I can't help it — Is it my fault, if they 
won't believe the truth?" 

" Why, pEHjple are apt to trust to appear- 
ances, in these rases ; and, if appearances are 
contrary to your assertions, you should not 
wonder, that you are not believed." 

" Well, time will show them their mis- 
takel" said Vivian. — "But I don't know 
■vkai, af pearances you mean — What appear- 



KDces are against isie ? — I never, in my Kfe> 
«8W a \TO4nan I was less disposed to ISie — 
wbom it would be more impossible for me 
to love — than lady Sarnh Lidhurst ; and, I 
am sui?, I never gave her, or any of her fe- 
nily, tbe least reftsoia ta unagifie 1 h^ a 
flionght of her." 

" \'ery likety ; yet j-oti are jit lord Glis- 
tonbury's contanaally, aofl yoa attend Tier 
ladyship to all piil)lic places. Is this the 
way, do you think, to pnt a stop to the re- 
port, that has been raised?" 

■ I care fiOt whether it stops or goes 

' saidViviaii. "How !-^Don't I kaoW 

it is false? — That's enongh for me." 

•* It Bfliay embatpass yon yet," said Rus- 

H. 

" Gtaod Heavens ! — Can yon, whoknoW me 
■o well, RiisSel), fancy me so weak, as to be 
«nbarrassed by snch a report? Look! — I 
-would rather put this hand into that fire, 
Mnd l«t it ht burned off, than offer it to latty 
;Sarah Lidhurst." 

' Very likely — 1 don't dotibt you think 
«©," said Rllssell. 

^ Ami I would do so," eaid Vivian. 

*' pQieibly.— Yet you might be emhar- 



P^4 VIVIAN. 

I T£Lssed, uevertheless, If yovi found that yon 
lad raised expectations wbich you coold 
not fulfil ; and if you found yourself ac- 
cused of having jihed this lady; if all her 
friends were to say you had used her very 
ill. — I know your nuture, Vivian; these 
things would disquiet you very luuch: and 
is rt not better to prevent them ?" 

" But neither lady Sarah nor her friends 
blanie me; I see no Bigns, in the family, oi* 
any of the thoughts or feelings you sup- 
pose." 

" Ladies — especially young and fashion- 
ahle ladies — do not always show their- 
thoughts or feelings," said Russell, 

" Lady Sarah Lidlmrst has no thot^hls 
or feelings," said Vivian, "no more than an- 
automaton. I'll answer for her — I ain 
sure I can do her the justice to proclaim, 
that she has always, from the first moment 
I saw her, till this instant, condncted her- 
self, towards me, with the same petrified 
and petrifying pro])riety." 

" I do not know what petrified propriety 
exactly means," said Russell: " but, let it 
mean what it may, it is nothing to the pre- 
sent purpose ; for tlie qneslioa is not abont 



VIVIAN. S3 

the propriety of lady Saniij Lidliiirst's cou- 
iJuct, but of yours. Now, allowing you to 
call her ladyship a petrifaction, or ua auto* 
niaton,or by whatever other name yon please, 
sdU, Lapprehetid, that she is, iu reality, a 
hnman creature, and a woman ; and I con- 
ceive it is the duty of a man of honour, or - 
boiiesty, not to deceive hei"." 

" 1 would not deceive her, or any woman 
living, npoD any account," saidViWan. "But 
Jiow is it possible I can deceive her, wheii 
1 tell you, I never said a word aliout love or 
gallantry, or any thing like it, to her in my 
ray lifer" 

" But you kimw language is conventional, 
especially in gallantry," said Russell. 

'* True; but I'll swear the language of 
my l0(^s has been unecjuivocal, if that i* 
what yon mean ? " 

" Not exactly : there are certain signs, 
by which the world JUDGES in these cases 
— if a gentleman is seen often with the sama 

lady ill public ," 

" Absurd, troublesome, ridiculous signs, 
which would put a stop to all society, which 
would prevent a man from conversing witir 
a woman, either ia pablic or private ;..aadt 



-^^*'- 



•: 



U VIVIAN, 

must absolutely preclude one sex from ob^*^ 
taining any reftl knoAvledge of the cbarac^ 
ters and di*jX)8itioo8 of tlje other." 

" 1 admit all you say — 1 foel the truA' 
of it — I wish this was changed in society T 
it is a great inconvenience, a real eTil," sai4 
Russell ; " b«t an in<l4vidual cannot alter « ' 
custom ; and, as you have not, by your oWSt 
account, any particular interest in becom- 
ing more intimately acquainted with th« 
character and disposition of lady SiiFafa Lid- 
hurst, yon will do well not to expose youi^ 
self to any inconvenience, on her acconnt^ 
fay neglecting common received forms and' 
opinions." 

" Welt 1 well I — say no more about it" 
said Vivian, impatiently ; " spare me sdT far- t 
ther logic and morality upon this subject, 
and I'll do what you please — only tell m« 
-what you would hare me do ?" 

" Gradually withdraw yourself, for s^rilH • 
finie, from this house, and the report will 
die away of itself," 

" Withdraw myself! — that would be very 
hard upon me t" cried Vivian ; '* for this 
house is the moBt agreeable honse in town 
to me ; — because yon live in it, in the first 



place ; and then, thou^ die tronien are as stiif 
as pokers, oue is always sore of meedni; afl 
the pleasant and cleicr men at Glistonbnry's 
good dinner. Let me tell yon, good din- 
ners, and good company, and good conver- 
satioQ, and good music, make altogether it 
very pleasant house, which I should be 
cnnfoandedly sorry to be forced to give up," 

" I don't doubt it," s aid Rnssell ; " bnt we 
Bmst often give nji more even than this for 
the sake of acting with consistency and 
Iionoar : we mast sacTJfice the less to the , 
greater good ; and it is on these occasions^ 
that people shov strength or weakness o£ 
nmd." 

Vivian felt the jastice of hia friend Rus- 
sell's observations — resolved to follow bis 
advice — and to withdiaw himself gradually 
from the (ihstonbnry circle ; he had not, 
however, steadiness enongh to persist in 
this resolution ; oue engagement linked ooi 
another ; and he would soon, probably, have 
relapsed into his habit of being continually 
of their parties, if accident had not, for ai 
time, suspended this intimacy, by leading 
him into another, which seemed to bim stilt 
loore attractive^ 



mm 



r 



Sa VIVIAN.' 

Among the men of talents and poll-* 
tical consequence, whom be met at lord- 
Ciistonbnry's, was Mr. Wharton, whose' 
coHversation particularly pleaded Vivian;, 
and who now coortud his acquaintance withi 
sn eagerness, which was peculiarly flatter- 
ing. Vivian knew him only as a man oP 
great abilities ; with his real character he* 
was not' acquainted. Wharton hadprepos-- 
Eessing manners, and w-it strfficient, whEn-*' 
ever he pleased, to make the wmse appear* 
the better reason. In private or In publici: 
debate, he had at hi» command, and could.! 
condescend ta employ, all sorts of arms, and*' 
every possible mode of annoyance, from the( 
most powerful artillery of logic, to the low-^ 
est squib ofhumonr. He was as little nice" 
in the company lie kept, as in the style of) 
Lis conversation. Frequently associatfng'' 
with foolsj and willing even to be thonghti 
one, he made, alternately, his sport and ad-', 
vantage of the wealoiess and follies of man-'- 
kind, Wharton was pbilosojthically, po-- 
liticidly, and fashionably profligate. After< 
having rained his private fortune by , un-- 
boanded extraviigauce, he lived on — nobody. 
knew how — in cai-eless pvofusioa. In publici 



L 



fife, he made a distinguished figure ; and 
seemed, therefore, to think liiuiself raised 
iibove the necessity of practising any of the 
minor virtues of economy, pnidviite, or jus- 
tice, ivhich common people find e.sst'i>tiid 
to tlieir well-being in society. Far from 
attempting to conceal, he gloried in his 
iniilts; for, he knew full well, that, as long 
us lie bad the voice of mnnhers with him, 
he coald hully, or laugh, or shame plain 
reatJOB' and rigid principle out of cantitc- 
. fiance. It was his grand art to represent 
good sense as stupidity, aud virtue as hypo- 
crisy. Hypocrisy was, iu his opinion, the 
only vice, which merited the hrand of ia- 
famy ; and from this he took sufficient 
Cure to prove, or at least to proclaim, hini- 
Bdffree. Even whilst lie ofiendcd agaiust 
the decencies of life, there seemed to ha 
something frank and graceful' in his niannei; 
oflhrowiug aside all disguise. There ap-. 
peared an air of superior liberality in hii 
avowing himself to be governed by that ab- 
solute selfishness, which otlier men strive 
t» conceal even from their own hearts. He 
dexterously led his acc[uaintance to infer, 
..thaj; he would prove as much better tbnu-. 



9© VlVlA?r. 

hie proft«6ik>aB, as other pei^le are oft^ 
fonnd to be worse than theirs. Where fatt 
wished to please, it was scarcely posBlble itti 
escape the fascination of his manner; not\ 
did be neglect any mode of coarting pepit^ 
larity ; he knew that a good table is necesHj 
sary to attract even men of wit ; and iMi) 
made it a point to have the very best cool^ 
UTid the very best miies. He paid his cook 
and his cook was the only j>ereoii he di( 
pay, in ready money. His wine merchant 
be paid iti words — an art in wliicli he wa^ 
a professed, and yet a successfid adept, arf 
hundreds of living witnesses were ready tril 
attert. Bot, thong^i Wharton could cajom 
he conld not attach his fellow creatm-es -^♦' 
lie had ft party, but no friend. With thi* 
distribution of tilings lie was pcrl'ectly satis^ 
fied ; for be considered men only as beiugsj 
wbo were to be worked to his purposes i 
and he declai-ed, that, provided he had powel( 
over their interests and their humunrs, ht| 
cared not what became of llieir bcarts. H 
was his policy to enlist yonng men af tiJ{ 
lents or fortnne under his banners; antlj 
consetjiieutly, Vivian was Hn object worth^dK 
of his attention. Such wa« tbe disorder ^ 



TIVIAK. 9\ 

Whsrtan's aftiin, tb*t nther reedy money 

or political power was necessaiy to his «s- 
istence. Our hero conW, at the same time, 
siipply his extrara^ance, and increase his 
coHse^ence. Wharton thotiglit that ha 
cooM borrow luouey from Vivian, ami thirt 
lie might COBimand his Tot« in parUament: 
Imt, to the accomplishment (rf these schemes, 
liiere were two ohstacles j Vivian was ftt- 
tar^ed to an amiable woman, and was pos- 
sessed of an estimal)le friend. Wharton 
had becotne acquainted with Russell at lord 
Gljstonbary's ; and, in mnny arguments, 
vbicli they had held on public nfikirs, had 
discovered, that RuBsell was not a man who 
ei"er preferred the expedient to the riglit, 
nor one, who coald be bnllied or laughed ont 
of bis principles. He saw, rImo, that Russell's 
iiiflnenee over Vivian was so J^eat, that it 
supped him with that strength of mind, in 
*^ich Vivian was natnrally deficient ; and, 
it our hero should marry such a woman a3 
miss Sidney, Wharton foresaw, that he should 
have no chance of succeeding in his designs j 
therefore, his first objects were to detach 
Vivian from his frientl Russell, and from 
Selina. One morning, he called upon Vi- 



93. xivtAtr. 

vlao with a part^ of bis triends, and fbun^ 
Lim writing. 

" Poetry !" cried Whartou, carelessly 
looking at what he had been writings 
" Poetry, 1 protest! — Aye, I know this poofv 
fellow's In love; and every man who is iiB' 
love is a poet, * with a woful ditty to fai^ 
mistress's eyelirow.' Fray, what colour may) 
miss Sidney's eyebrows be ? — she is really ai 
pretty girl — I think I reinemher seeing hoij 
at some races — Why does she never comi 
to town r — But of course she is not UHf 
hlaiue for that, but her fortune, I suppose — 
Marrying a girl without u tbrtune is a serious- 
thing in these expensive days ; hut you hav& 
iortiine enough for hoth yourself and your 
wife, so you may do as yon please. Well, L 
thank God I have no fortune ! — If I had been 
a yoinig man of fortune, 1 should have beCn: 
U»e most unhappy rascal npon Earth, for I; 
should never have married — I should have- 
always suspected, tbat every woman liked 
Bie, for my wealth — I should have had no. 
pleasure in the smiles of an angel — angels,, 
or their mothers, are so venal now adays,, 
and so fond of the pomps and vanities of. 
^18 wicked worldl-^ 



M^ 



vrviAtJ. tj3 

I hope," said Vivian, langhing, " you 
ion't include the whole sex iu yoor satire?" 
' No — there are exceptions — andevery 
B&i) iias his angel of an exreptioo, as every 
iman has her star ; — it is well for weak 
imen when these stars of theirs don't 
Mad them astray ; and well for weak men, 
fffhen these angel exceptions, before niar- 
liage, don't turn out very ■women or devils 
iftenvards. But why do I say all this? 
— because I am a su'-picious scoundrel — 1 
know, and can't hel|> it. if other fellows 
(rfniy standing, in this wicked world, would 
bnt speak the truth, however, they would 
<h<jff as orach suspicion, and more than I 
do. Bad as I am, and snch as I am, yon 
lee, and have the whole of mc — nobody 
tan say "Wharton's a hjqiocrjte, that's some 
comfort. — But, seriously, Vivian, I don't 
mean to laugh at love and angels — I can 
jnatreoiembcr the time when I felt ull yom- 
iort of romance — hut that is in the pretcr- 
Ulaperfect tense with me — completely past 
-~- amhition is no had cure for love — {siig- 
ling,) ' Amhition/ I said, ' will soon care 
Keoflove,' — and so it did — my head is, 
at this present moment, so full of this new 



J 



^ VIVIAN. 

bUl, tliat vfe are bringing into [jarlianteiit, 
tliat Gupid might empty his quiver upon me 
in vain. — ixiok ! here is an impenetrable 
slneldl" added he, wrapping round him a 
thick printed copy of an act of parlifmient. 
*' Come, Vivian, ytm must come akittgnitli 
fifr to the hoDBe, 

' AnJ, mix'd with men, a man you must appear.' 

Vivian felt much EwKamed of havingrb 
detected in WTiting a sonnet, especially as- it 
afforded Wharton such a flno subje-ct for 
raillery ; he accompanietl the party to ttoi 
house of commons, where Wharton mad« 
a bpilliant speech. It ^ined universal ap» 
plause. Vivian sympathised in the gene* 
ral enthusiasm of admiration for Wharton-i 
talents, accepted an invitation to sup wit& 
him, and was charmed by his convivial 
powers* From this day, he grew every houtt 
more intimate with Wharton. 

" I cau enjoy," thought Vivian, " iIm 
pleasure of his society without being inflv^ 
enced by his libertine example." 

Lady Mary Vivian saw ths rise and pro* 
gress of this intimatTy, and was not ihsensi* 
ble to i^s danger ; yet she was gratified by 



VIVIAN. 9,5 

toettig lier son distioguished by a man of 
Whartous political copsequcuco ; and alie 
'Satistied her conscience l)y saying — "He- 
will bi'ing my son forward in pablic life;. 
aatl,a8 to the rest, Charles has too good prin- 
cijlles ever to follow his exainpU in private 
life." 

Wbai'tou had too mach address to alarm 
Vivian's moral prejudices on a first acquaint- 
ance! He contented himself with ridicul- 
iag only the exaggeration of any of the vir- 
tnes, still affecting to believe in virtae, and< 
to love it, wherever it could be fonnd ge- 
naint;. By the success of bis first petty at- 
tacks he learned the power, tliat ridicule 
IiBd over onr hero's mind ; and he did not 
ful> to muke use of it continiiully. After 
Iwving, as he peiceived, succeeded in mak- 
ing Vivian ashamed' of his soonet to Selina, 
and' of appearing as a romantic lover, he 
doubted not, but, in time, be should niidce 
true love itself ridiculons ; and Wharton 
tbooght it was now the moment to hazard 
another stroke, and to commence his. attack 
ag^nst friendship. 

" Vivian, my good fellow ! why do you -■ 
let youTBelf be ruled by that modern stoicy' 



^0 VIVIAN. 

in the form of lord Liclhnrst's Tutor? \ 
never b»\v one of these eold moralists, whi 
were real, warm-heiirted, good friends, i 
have a notion 1 see more of Rnsseti's playia" 
the house, M'here he has got, than he thinks. 
I .do ; and I can fonn a shrewd gness wh^ 
he was so zealous in warning you of the re^i 
port about lady Sunih Lidhurst — he had 
his own snug reasons for wanting you away 
— Ohj tnist me for scenting out self interestj^ 
through a}I the dotihlings and windings ofl 
your cnoning moralist!" 

Reddening with indignation at this at"-' 
tack upon his friend, Vivian wannly repliectyl 
"That Mr. Wharton onght to restrain hifp 
wit, where the feelings of friendship, and I 
the character of a man of honour, were con-* 
cemed ; that he did not, in the least, corar-jj 
preheud his insinuations with rcgaixl to Rus-H 
sell ; hut that, for his own part, he had such 4 
firm reliance upon his -friend's attachment* 
and integrity, that lie was, at any time,>4 
ready to pledge his own honour for Kus-« 
sell's, and to answer ftir it with his life." •■\ 

"Spare your heroics, my dear Vivian !"-< 
cried Wharton, laughing; "for we ai-e not i 
ip the days of Pylades and Orestes j. — :j;e.I^ 



VIVIAN. $y 

mpoa my soul, instead of being as angry 
vrith yoa> as yoa are with me, at this instant, 
I like yoa a thousand times the better for 
your enthusiastic credulity. For my part, 
I have, ever since I lived in the world, and 
put away childish things, regretted that 
charming instinct of credulity, which •expe- 
rience so fatally counteracts. — 1 envy you, 
my dear boy! — As to the rest, you know 
RusselFs merits better than I do — Fll take^ 
Jjim henceforward upon trust from you." 

Thus Wharton, finding that he was upon 
dangerous ground, made a time! y retreat ". the 
playful manner and open countenance with 
which he now spoke, and the quick transi- 
tion that lie made to other subjects of con- 
versation, prevented Vivian from suspect- 
ing, that any settled design had been formed 
to detach him from Russell. From this 
time forward, Wharton forbore raillery ori 
iove and friendship ; and, far from seeming 
desirous of interfering in Vivian's private 
^concerns, appeared quite absorbed in poli- 
tics. Avowing, as he did, that he wa^ 
guided solely by his interest in public life, 
he laughed at Vivian for professing more 
generous principles^ 

VOL. v. F 



9A VIVIAN. 

" 1 know," cried Wharton, " how top 
make ase of a fine word, and to round a fine 
sentence, as well as tlie best of you ; bat 
wliat a sinipleton must he be, who Is cheated 
by his own sophistry ! — An artist, an entbn- | 
siastic artist, who is generally half a mad- 
man, might fall in love with the statue of 
his own making ; but you never heard of a 
coiner, did you, who was cheated by his 
own bad shilling ? Patriotism and loyalty 
are counterteit coin ; I can't be taken in by 
them at my time of day" 

Vivian could not forbear to smile at the 
drollery and wit with which this jirofligate 
defended his want of integrity, yet he some- 
times seriously and warmly asserted his uwQ 
principles. Upon these occasions, Wharton 
either overpowered him by a fine flow of 
words, or else hstened with the most flat- 
tering air of admiration, and silenced him 
by compliments to his eloquence. Vivian 
thought, that he Avas quite secure of his 
own- firmness ; but the contagion of had 
exwiiple sometimes affects the mind imper- 
ceptibly, as certain noxituis atmospheres 
stfial.upon the senses, and excite the most 
agreeable sensations, while they secretly de- 



VIVIAN. 99 

stroy the principles of health and lifo. A 
day was fixed, when a question of import- 
ance was to come on in the hoosc of com- 
mons. Wharton was extremely anxious to 
have Vivian's vote, Vivian, according to 
the parliamentary phrase, fmd not made up 
his mind on the subject. A heaj) of pamph- 
lets on the question lay iincut upon his 
table. Every morning lie resolved to read 
them, that be might form his judgment, 
and vote according to his unbiassed opinion. 
But every morning he was interrupted by 
some of the fashionable idlers, whom his 
lacility of temper had indulged in the habit 
of haunting him daily. " Oh, Vivian! we 
are going to such and siicb a place, and yon 
must come with us !" was a mode of per- 
snasion which he could not resist. 

" If I don't do as they do," tbongbt hej 
" I shall be quite unfashionable. Rnssell 
may say what he pleases ; but it is necessary 
to yield to one's companions in trifles. 

* Whoever would be plea^'d and please. 
Must do what others do tvith e:ise.' " 

This couplet, which had been rejieated to 
him by Wharton, recurred to him coutinn^ 

F3 



r 



lOO VIVIAN. 

ally; and thus Wharton, by slight meatis 
in H'liich he seemed to have no interest or 
design, ])rcpared V'ivian for his purposes, by 
working gradually on the easinees of bis 
disposition : he always argued, that it conld 
not possibly signify what he did with an. 
hour or two of his day, till at last \'ivian 
found, that he had no hours of his own, 
that his whole time was at the disposal of 
otlicrs4 and now, that he really wanted 
leisure to consider an important question, 
when his credit, as a member of the senate, 
and as a man just entering political life, 
depended on this decision, he literally conld 
not command time to read over the neces- 
sary documents. The mornings were frit- 
tered or lounged away in the most unprofit- 
able and uninteresting manner; some foolish 
engagement, some triBing party of pleasure, 
every day snatched him from hunself ; his 
companions kept jjossession of him, and 
there was no possibility, of slmtting himself 
np in his own apartment to meditate: so 
the appointed day arrived before Vivian's 
opinion was formed ; and, from mere want 
of time to decide for himself, he voted as 
Wharton desired. Another and anothei^ 



TIVI'AN. tot 

yelitical question came on ; the same canses 
•perated^ and the same consequences en- 
saed. Wharton mans^d with great ad- 
dress, so as to prevent him from feeling that 
he gave up his free will ; and Vivian did not 
perceive, thdt every day added a fresh ImL 
to that most minute, but strongest of ^^\ 
chains^ the chain of habit *. Before Vivijo;; 
was aware of it, whilst he thought that be 
was perfectly independent of all parties^ 
public opinion had enrolled him amongst 
Wharton's partisans. Of this Russ^ell was 
the first to give him warning* Russell hefnd 
©fit amongst the political leaders, who npiet 
at lord Glistonbury's dinners ; and, knowing 
tile danger there is of a young man's com- 
mit ting himself on certain points, he, wi^. 
the eagerness of a true friend, wrote imme.- 
diately to put Vivian upon his guard — , 

" Mv dear Vivian ! 
^' I am just going into the country with 
" lord Lidhurst, and, perhaps, may not re- 
" turn for some time. I cannot leave vou 
" without putting you on your guard, once 
" more, against Mr. Wharton. I under'- 

* Dr, Johnsoo. 



r« 



' stand, that you are thought to be one of 
' his party> and that he eoiinteiiances tha 
report. Take care, that you are notbouud 
' hand and foot, before you know where I 
■ you are. 

" Your sincere friend, 

" H. Russell.' 



;;;J^ith the natnral frankness of his dispo- 

;~^J^on, Vivian immediately spoke to Whar- 

IloDupou the subject. 

'--n Wliat! people say that you are one 
ilf my party, do they i* " said Wharton : " I 
■cever heard this before, but I am heartily 
ifiiad'to hear it. Yon are in for it now, Vi- 
vicin : you are one of ns ; and, with us, yoii 

tijnst atand or fall." 

■ ,,," Excuse me, there !" cried Vivian ; "I 
am not of any party ; and am determined t» 

.Jterp myself perfectly independent." 

" Do you remember the honest ()nake!'s ' 
■answer to the man of no party ?" sai(l' | 
W barton. ' 

" No." ' 

" I think it was about the year 40, when 
party disputes about whig and tory ran ■ 
high ; but no matter what year, it will do for 
any time. — A geiitletuaa of uudeviating in- 



'IV IAN. 103 

tegrJty, an iiidepenilent man, just surh a 
moQas Mr. Vivian, ofteied himsclt'candidate 
for a town in the east, west, uorth, or south 
ofEngland, no matter where — it will do 
for any place; and the first person, whose 
TOte he solicited, was a quakcr, who asked 

him, whether he was a whig or tory. 

'Neither. — I am an independent, moderate 
man; and, when the niemhers of admint«- 
tration are right, I will vote with thcni — 
when wrong, against them.' — ' And he tlie-ie 
reaily thy principles?' tpioth the (juakea'; 
' then a vote of mine tliou shalt never have. 
Thou seest my door, it leadeth into the 
itreet, the right hand side of which is for the 
tory, the left for the whigs ; and, for a cold 
blooded, moderate man, like thee, there ia 
tile kennel, and into it then wilt be jostled, 
for thon heest not decided enough for any 
other situation.' " 

" Bnt why should the moderate man he 
condemned to the kennel ? " said Vivian. 
** Was there no middle to your quaker's 
road? — A stout man cannot be easily 

jostled into the kennel ." 

"Pshaw! pshaw!" said Wharton, "jest- ■ 
lag out of the question, a naan is nothing 



. 104 



I in public life, or worse than nptbingi a 
|, trimmer, unless he muns a party, and on- 
l less lie abides ljy it, too." 
I "^ As long aa the party ia in the right, I 

I presume you inean/' said Vivian. 

" Right or wrongl" cried Wharton, " a 
man must abide by bis party. No power, 
and no popularity, trust me, without it! — - 
Better stride on the greasy heads of the 
nioh} than be trampled under their dirtier 
feet, An armed neutrality may he a good 
thing ; hnt an unarmed nentrality is 6t 
only for fools. Betides, in Russell's giand 
etyle, I can bring down the ancients upoii 
yon, and tell you, that, when the common- 
wealth is in danger, he cannot be a good 

man, who sides with neither party ." 

" If it he so necessary to join a party, 
and if, after once joining it, 1 must abide 
by it, right or wrong, for life," said Vivian^ 
*' it behoves me to consider well before I 
commit myself. And, before 1 ^o into the 
ranks, I must see good reason to confide^ 
not only in the abilities, hut in the inte- 
grity and pnblic \irtue of my leader." 

" Public virtue! — sounds fresh from coK 
lege," said Wharton; "I would as ei 



h^ 



and sootier, hear a schoolboy read his themes ■ 
asliear a man begin to prose about public 
rirtne — especially a member of parliament. 
Keep that phrase, my dear Vivian, till some 
of the treasury bench come to court you ; 
then look superb, like a French tragic 
actor, swelling out your chest, and, throwing 
the head over tlie left slioiilder, thus, ex- 
claim — Public virtue forbid ! — Practise ! 
practise!' — For if you do it well, it may he 
worth a loud huzza to you yet ; or, better 
still, a snug place or pension, — But stay till 
jon're asked, stay till you're asked — that's' 
the etiquette — never, till then, let me hear 
public virtue come out of your lips — else 
yon'll raise suspicion of your virtue, and 
lower your price. — What would yon think 
of ii pretty actress, wlio began to talk to 
ytm of her reputation before yovj put it in 
■Wiy danger? Oh, VivianI my honest fel- 
low! unless you would make me think you 
Mo better than thousands, that have gone 
before yon, never let me hear from your 
lips again, till the proper thne, the hj-pocri- 
tical state phrase, public virtue," 

" I had always, till now, understood, that 
ii.was possible to be a patriot without being: 
r3 



a06 VIVIAN. 

a hypocrite," replied Vivian : " I always na- 
derstood, that Mr. Wharton was a patriot." 
■■' A very fair sarcasm on me," said Whar- 
ton, laaghiDg, — " Bnt you know I'm a sad 
dog, never set inyself nj) for a pattern man. 

Come! — Let's home to dinner, and a 

trace with politics and niondity. — I 6nd, 
Vivian, you're a sturdy fellow, and must 
'have your own way; no bending, no lead^ 
ing yon, I see — Well ! it is a good thing to 
have so much strength of mind — I envy 

you ." 

It nmst he recorded, to the credit df 
onr hero, that, in defiance of Wharton's 
raillery, he talked, and — Oil! still mor^ 
wonderfal! — thought of public virtue, doi:^ 
ing nearly half of his first session in parlia- 
ment. But, alas! whilst his political prin-' 
cipks thus withstood the force of ridicul*;, 
-temptation soon presented itself to ViviaJt 
in a new shape, and in a form so seducing', 
as to draw his attention totally away fron^ 
politics, and to pnt his private, if not his 
public honour in the most imminent peril. 



107 



CHAPTER IV. 



One morning, as Vivian was walking 
Wth Mr. Wbarton up Bond Street^ tbey 
were met by a party of fashionable loungers, 
Mieof whom asked, whether Mrs. Wharton 
was jQot cocne to town yet. 

"Mrs. Wharton!"— said Vivian, with 
an air of surprise. 

^^ Yes, she came to town this moi-ning,'* 
said Wharton carelessly, then laughing, as 
he turned to look at Vivian, — ^' Vivian, 
my good fellow ! what smites you with such 
surprise? — Did not you know I wa& mar- 
ried?" 

" I suppose I must have heard it; but I 
really forgot it," said Vivian. 

" There you had the advantage of me," 
said Wharton, still laughing. *^ But if you 
never heard of Mrs. Wharton before, keep 
your own secret; for I can tell you she 
would never forgive you, though I might. — 
Pat a good face on the matter, at any rate; 



and swear you've heard so much of her;, 
that you were dying to, see her. Some ofj 
these geutlemen, who bare nothing else 
to do, will introduce you whenever yi 
please," 

" And cannot 1," said Vivian, " have the 
honour of yonr introduction ?" ' 

" Mine! theworst you could possibly havei || 
— The honour, as you are pleased to calM 
it, would be no favonr, I assure you — ThO' 
honour! honour of a husband's introduce- 
tion! — What a novtcc yon are, or wouW 
make me believe you to ije I — But, seriously^ i 
I am engaged to day, at Glistonbury's — soj 
good morning to you," » 

Accustomed to hear Wh'artoB talk, in tl^ 
freest manner, of women and marriage itK 
general, and scarcely having beard hinv 
mention his own wife; Vivian had, as hei-l 
Bftid, al)sohitely forgotten, that WhartouJ 
was a married man. When he was intro-J 
daced to Mrs, Wharton, he was still more s 
surprised at her husband's indifference; for f 
he bebeld a lady in all the radiance o£ J 
beauty, and all the elegance of fashion: he li 
■was so much dazzled by her charms, that . 
he had not immediately power or inclir* 



VIVTAN. 109- 

nation to examine what her understanding' 
or disposition mij^ht be; and he conid only 
repeat to himself^ — " How is it possible, that 
Wharton can be indifferent to such a beau- 
tifid creature!" 

locapable of feeling any of what h&' 
called the romance of love, the passion, of ' 
Coarse, had always been, with Mr. Wliartony 
of a Tery transient nature. Tired of his- 
wife's person, he showed his indifference 
withont scniple or ceremony. Notorious 
and glorying in his gallantries, he was often 
heard to declare, that no price was too high 
to be paid for beauty, except a man's U- 
berty; but that was a sacrifice, which he- 
Wonld never Tnake to any woman, especially 
to a wife. Marriage vows and custom- 
^onse oaths he classed in the same order of 
technical forms — no ways binding on the con- 
science of any but fools and dnpes. Whilst 
the husband went on in this manner, the wife 
satisfied herself by indulgence in ber strongest" 
passions — the passion for dress and public 
admiration. Childishly eager to set the' 
feshion in trifles, she spent unconscionable' 
nims on her pretty person; and devoted all,' 
ier days, or rather all her nights, to publicr 



1 



IM 



1 



amusements. So insatiable and restless 
the paasicm for adBiiratiou, diat she w 
never happy for half an hour together, afcy 
any place of public amusement, unless she'! 
fixed the gaze of numbers. The first winter 
after her marriage she enjoyed the preroga- ' 
tives of a fashionable beauty ; but the rei^u 
of fashion is more tr;msient even ttian thft 
bloom of beauty. Mrs. Wharton's beauty^ ' 
soon grew familiar, and faded in the publMr! 
eye; some newer face was this season thBii 
mode. Mrs. Wharton appeared twice at' 
the opera in the most elegant and becoin-'i 
ing dresses; but no one followed her leadj ' 
Mortified and utterly dejected, she felt,j 
with the keenest angnish, the first symp-i 
tome of the decline of public admiratiou.' 
It was just at this period, when she was mi- 
serably in want of the consolations of flattery, 
that Vivian's acquaintance with her com- 
menced. Gratified by the sort of delighted 
surprise, which she saw in his conntenaace. 
the first moment he beheld her, seeing that 
he was an agreeable nmn, and knowing that he - 
was a man of fortune and family, she took: 
pains to please him by all the common arte 
of coqnetry. But his yanity was proof- 



VIVIAN, III 

against these: Ibe weakness of tlie lady's 
on^rstanding and the frivolity of her cbH" 
racter were, for some weeks, snfticient antt- 
ioted against all the power of her personal 
cliaruis; so much so. that, at tliis period, he 
often compared, or rather contrasted, Mrs. 
Wharton and Selina, and hle^eed his happy . 
fate. He wfotc to hii friend Russell soon I 
after he was introduced to this celebrated 
Ijeauty, and drew a strong and jnst parallel | 
between the characters of these two ladies: 
he concluded with saying — I 

" Notwithstanding your well founded I 
ilread of the volatility of my character, yoa 
will not, I hope, my dear Russell, do ine 
^ the injustice to apprehend, that 1 am in any 
danger from the charms ol'Mrs. Wharton." 
Vivian wrote with perfect sincerity; he 
believed it to be impossible that he could 
ever be("omc attached to sucji a woman as 
Mrs. Wharton, even if she had not beea 
married, and the wife of his friend. So, in ' 
all the aecurlty of conscious contempt, he ' 
went every day to wait upon her, or, rather, ', 
to meet agreeable company at her hout^e: — I 
U house, in which all that was fashionable | 
cioU dissipated assembled ; where beauty, and ' 



b 



TTS- vivtan: 

talents, and rank, met and mingled; and' 
where political or other arrangements pre- 
Tented the host and hostess from scrupu- 
lously excluding some, whose characters 
■were not tree from suspicion. Lady Mary 
Viriau never went to Mrs. Wharton's ; but 
ahe acknowledged, that she knew many 
ladies of unblemished reputations, who' 
^thought it no impropriety to visit there; 
and Mrs. Wharton's own character she 
knew was hitherto iinini]>ea<'hed. " She 
is, indeed, a woman of a cold, selfish temper," 
eaid Indv Mary, "not likely to he led into 
danger by the tender passion, or by any of 
the delusions of the imagination." 

Vivian agreed with his mother in this* 
opinion, and went on paying his devoirs to ' 
her every day. It was the fashion of the- ' 
times, and peculiarly the mode of this house, . 
for the gentlemen to jjay cxchisive attention" 
to matrons. Few of the yeung men -seemed ■ 
to think it worth while to speak to an un- 
married woman, in any company ; and the 
fewwho might be inclined to it, were, as 
they declared, deterred 1^ the danger ; for 
either the young ladies themselves, or theif - 
mothers^ immediately formed exj>cctatioaS'i 



VIVIAN. lis 



rand schemes of drawiug thein into matri- 
uiotiy — the grand object of the Indies" wishes 
and of the gentlemen's fears. The niea 
suid they could not speak to an unmarried 
wouian, or even dance with her more than 
twice, without it's heing reported, that they 
were going to be married; and then the 
Jriends and relatives of the young ladies 
pretended to think them injured and ill- 
treated, if these reports were nut realised. 
Our hero bad some slight experience of the 
tmth of these complaints in his own ease 
with the lady Sarab Lidburst: he willingly 
took the rest upon trust — believed all the 
exaggerations of his companions — and be- 
gan to think it prudent and necessary to 
follow their example, and confine his atten- 
tions to married women. Many irreaisti- 
bie reasons eonciuxed to make Mis. Whar- 
ton the moat convenient and proper persouj 
to whom he could pay tliis sort of homage ; 
besides, she seemed to fall to his share by 
lot and necessity; for, at Wharton's house, 
every other lady and every other gentle- 
Dian being engaged in gallantry, play, or 
politics, Mrs, Wharton must have been 
utterly neglected, if Vivian had not paid J 




HU VIVIAN. 

lier Bonie attention. iCoinmoa politen^a* 
absolutely requiced it; the attention be*i 
came a matter of course, and was habitually 
expected. Still, he liad not the slightest 
design of going beyond the line of modem 
politeness; but, in certain circnmstanceii^ 
people go wrong a great way before thc^ 
are aware, that they have gone a single stepL 
it was presently repeated to Mr. Vivian, by 
oome of Mrs, Wharton's confidantes, 
whispers, and cnder the solenm promise 
secresy, that he certainly was a prodigio 
favourite of hers ; he laughed, and affect 
to disbelieve the insinuation: it made i^ 
impression, however ; and he "was eecreUy 
flattered by the idea of being a prodigii 
favourite with such a beautil'nl young 
ture. In some moments, be saw her witl 
eyes of compassion, pitying her for the n«*; 
gleet with which she was treated by he* 
husband: he began to attribute much of 
her apparent frivolity, and many of her 
faults, more to the want of a guide and k 
friend, than to deficiency of understandings ; 
or defects of character. Mrs. Wharta»! 
had just sufficient sense to be cmmiug — thip. 
implies but a very small portion: she peiv 



ecived the advanta^ -n-hich she guiiied bjr 
thus working npon Vivian's TanHy, an<l 
upon his cotn]>assion. She continued her 
o[)eriitions, without being violently inte- 
reeted in their success ; for she had, at 6rst, 
•nly !i general wish to attract his attention, 
kcanse he was a fashioiiable yonng man. 

One morninj:, when he called upon Whar- 

D, to accompany him to tlie honse of com- 
mons, he found Mrs. Wharton in tears ; ber 

(band walking up and down tite room, in 
indent ill hnmonr. He stopped speaking 
rben Vivian entered ; and Mrs. Wharton 
«ldeavoured, or seemed to endeavour, to 
conceal her emotion. She began to play 

her hnrp; and Wharton, addressing hini- 
*elf to Vivian, talked of the politics of the 
■fcy. There was some incoherence in the 
wnvereation ; for Vivian's attention was 
&tnvcted by the air that Mrs. Wharton was 
jSaying, ot which he was passionately fond, 

" There's no possibility of doing any 
■fting, while there is such a cursed noise in 
■flie room!" cried Wharton. — "Here I have 
"flie heads of this hill to draw up — I cannot 
Endure to have music wherever I go ." 

He snatched up his papers, and retired 



J 



1T6 VIVIAN, 

to an adjoining apartment, begging thav 
Vivian wonld wait one quarter of an honr 
for liini. — Mrs. Wharton's tears flowed 
afresh, and she looked beautiful in tears. 

" You see — you see, Mr. Vivian — and I 
am ashamed you should see — how 1 am 
treated. — I am, indeed, the most unfortu- 
nate creature upon the face of the Eartli, 
and nobody in this world has-tbe least com- 
passion for me ! " 

Vivian's countenance contradicted tins 
last assertion most positively. — Mrs. Wliaj- 
ton understood this ; and lier attitude of 
despondency was the most graceful imar 
ginable. 

" My dear Mrs. Wharton" — (it was the 
first time our liero had ever called her, " his 
dear Mrs. Wharton," but it was only a Pla- 
tonic dear) — " You take trifles ranch too se- 
riously — Wharton was hurried by business 
— A moment's impatience most be for- 
given," 

" A moment ! " replied Mrs. Wharton, 
casting up to Heaven her lieautiful eyes — 
"Oh I Mr, Vivian, bow little do yon know ■ 
him ! — 1 am the most miserable creat 
tliiit ever existed ; but there is not 




VIVIAN. 117 

ipon Earth to whom 1 would say so except 
vonrself." 

Vivian couW not help feeling some grati- 
tude fnr this distinction ; and, aa he leaned 
Wer her harp, with an air of unusual inte- 
t, he said he hoped, that he should ever 
iVB himself worthy oi her esteem and 
confidence. 
At this instant, Wharton interrupted the 
mversation, by passing hastily through the 
»m. — "Come, Vivian," said he j "we 
all he very late at the house." 
" We shall see you again, of course, at 
inner," said Mrs, Wliarton to Vivian, in a 
low voice. Our hero replied, hy an assenting 
Tjow, — Five minutes afterwards, he re- 
pented that he had accepted the invitation ; 
because he foresaw that she would resume a 
conversation, which was at once interesting 
wid embarrassiug. He felt that it %vas not 
riglit to hecome the dejmsitory of this lady's 
complaints against her husband ; yet lie had 
been moved by her tears, and the idea, that 
was the only man hi f/ie world to whom 
le would open her heart, upon such a deli- 
cate subject, interested him irresistibly in 



M8 VIVIAN, 

lier favour. He returowl in the evening, 
and was flattered by obsemng, that, ainongbt 
the crowd of company by wliich ahe was 
surrounded, he was instaiitiy distinguislied. 
He was perfectly persuaded of the iunoceuce 
of her intentions ; and, as he was attached, 
to another woman, he fancied that he coakl 
become the friend of the beautiful Mrs, 
Whaiton without danger. The first tinie 
he had an opportunity of sj>eakiug to lier in 
private he expressed this idea in the man- 
ner that he thought the most deHcalelv flat- 
tering to her self-complacency. Mrs. Whar- 
ton seemed to be perfectly satisfied with this 
conduct, and declared, that, unless she had 
been certain, that he was) not ii man of gal- 
lantry, she should never have placed any 
confidence in his friendship. 

" I consider yon," said she, " quite as a 
married man ; — by the bye, when arc vou 
to be married, and what sort of a person h 
Diiss Sidney ? — 1 am told she is excessivelv 
handsome, and amiable, and senftible. — 
What a happy creature slie is 1 — just going 
to tie united to the man she loves 
Here the lady gave a profound sigh, and 



i 



VIVIAN. 119 

Tiriiui had an opportonity of obseiring, 
^at slie had the longest dark eyelashes, 
tJiat he had ever seen. 

I was married," contiuued she, "before 
1 knew what I was a))oat. Yon kuow Mr. 
Wharton can be so charming, when he 
]rfeases — and then he was so much in love 
"With me, and swore he wonld shoot himself, 
rf I would not have him — and all that sort 

flf thing. 1 protest I was terrified ; and 

1 was quite a child, you know. I had been 
Dnt hot six weeks, and 1 thonght I was in 
lore with him. That was because I did 

lot know what love w;is — then ; — besides, 

be hurried and teased me to such a degree! 

After all, I'm convinced I married him 
more out of compassion than any thing else; 
and now you see how be treats me ! — most 
,barbarou!sly and tyrannically! — But Iwould 
,notgive the least hint of this to any man 
living but yourself. I conjure yon to keep 
^ffly secret — and — pit\' me \ — that is all I 
iaki — pity me sometimes, when your thoughts 
Ok not absorbed in a happier manner." 

Vivian's generosity was piqued : he could 
Bot be so sellisb, as to be engrossed exclu- 
sively by his own felicity. He thought, that 



(leliciiry should ioduce liim to forbear expta 
tratiDg n])on Selina's virtues and acconuj 
])lislunents, or upou his passion. He caiH 
ried this delicay so far, that, somettHies fon 
a fortnight, or three weeks, he never men- 
tioned her name. He could not hut ob- 
serre, that Mrs. Wharton did not like 
the less for this species of sacrifice. In her- 
society, he often met ivith people, who, 
spoke of miss Sidney as a prude ; or, morfr. 
mortifying still, as a person whom nobody; 
knew. As his attachment and approach-^ 
ing marriage were to be ke]>t secret, h©- 
could not betray himself by entering ai,; 
warmly into her defence as lie might hav( 
"n'isht^d : but his varying colour showedi 
Mr?. Wharton, on these occasions, what hi 
&it j and she had always sufficient ciinning; 
to. repress dislike to her rival, and to rais«. 
herself in onr hero's opinion by a generonft^ 
silence. It may be oljsen'ed, tliat Mrs. 
Wharton managed her attack upon Vivian 
with more art, than could be expected from 
so silly a woman; but we must consider, 
that all her faculties were concentrated oa 
one object ; so that she seemed to have au 
instinct for coquetry. The most silly ani- 



VIVIAN. 121 

liials in the creation, from the insect tribe 
tipwards, show, on' some occasions, where 
their interests are immediately concerned, a 
degree of sagacity and ingenuity, which, 
compared with their usual imbecility, ap- 
pears absolutely wonderfdl. The opinion, 
which Vivian had early formed of the weak- 
ness of this lady's understanding, prevented 
him from being on his guard against her 
artifices : he could not conceive it possible, 
that he should be duped by a person so ob- 
riotasly his inferior. With a woman of ta- 
lents and knowledge, he might have been 
suspicious ; but there was nothing in Mrs, 
Wharton to alarm his pride, or to awaken 
his fears : he fancied, that he could extricate 
himself in a moment, and with the slightest 
eflfort, from any snares which she could con- 
trive; and, under this persuasion, he ne- 
glected to make even that slight effort, and 
thus continued, from hour to hour, in vo* 
luntary captivity. 

Insensibly, Vivian became more interested 
for Mrs. Wharton ; and, at the same time, 
submitted with increased facility to the in- 
fluence of her husband. It was necessaiy, 
that he should have some excuse to the 

VOL, V. G 



r 



123- VIVIAN. 

ivorld, iind yet more to bis own conscience, 
fur being so constantly at Wharton's. Tbe 
(ileasure be took in Wharton's conversatioi^ 
was still a sort of invohmtarj' excuse t^ 
himself for this intimacy with tbe lady, 
" Wharton's wit, more than Mrs. Whar- 
ton's beauty," thongbt he, " is the attract 
tion that draws me here — I am full as readfj 
to be of bis parties, as of hers ; and this is 
the best proof, that all is as it should be." 

Wharton's parties were not always such 
as Vivian would have chosen ; but he was 
pressed on, withont power of resistance. Foi( 
instance, one night Wharton was going with 
lord Pontipool and <i set of dissipated yonng 
men to the bouse of a lady, who made hei>J 
self fashionable by keeping a faro-bank, tt 

" Vivian, you'll come along with lis?" 
said Wliavton. " Coine, we must ha\'e 

yon unless you are more happily eiHji 

gaged." 1 

His eye glanced with a mixture of codJ 
tempt and jealousy upon bis wife — MraJ 
Wharton's alarmed and imploring counte4 
nance, at the same moment, seemed to say 
— " For Hea\en's sake go with him, or I am 
undone." In such circumstances, It was 



J 



impossible for Vivian to say, no : lie fol- 
lowed iramediatelj", acting, as he thought, 
from a principle of honour and generosity. 
Whiirton was not a man to give ni> the ad- 
vantage, which he had gained. Every day 
he showed more capricious jealonsy of his 
ffife, though he, at the same time, expressed 
the most entire confidence in the hononr of 
his friend. Vivian !<til! thought he could 
not do too much to convince him, that his 
confidence wan not misplaced ; and thns, 
to protect Mrs. Wharton from suspicion, he 
yielded to ail her husband's wishes. Vivian 
now felt frequently ashiimed of his condnct, 
but always proud of his motives ; and, with 
ingenious sojihistry, he justified to himself 
the worst actions by pleading, that he did 
them with the hest intentions. 





t - 

I 



UAITEH V. 



By this time, lady Mary Vivian began to 
hear hints of her son's attachment to Mrs." 
Wharton ; and, much alarmed, she repenteil 
having encouraged him to form a political 
or fashionable intimacy with the Hlnfrt&ris. 
Suddenly awakened to the ])erce]>tion of the 
danger, lady Mary was too vehement in her 
terrour. With the warmest maternal afl^- 
tion for her son, and the best principles- 
possible, she had not the art of managing 
his mind, or indeed her own. Her anxiety 
about him had, from his childhood, beeof 
too great ; his education had been a subject 
of feverish solicitude, which had increased * 
as he grew up, and had shown itself in a 
manner particularly irksome to him when 
he entered into the world. This operated 
against her most ardent wishes : it decreased 
instead of securing his confidence and aiFec- 
tion; for it was ridiculous in the eyes of 
most of the yonng men who were his com- 



VIVIAN. 125 

panions, and he had not strength of 
mind to withstand their millery. He grew 
asiiamed of Ijcing kept in awe hi/ Ins mamma ; 
and he thought it inciimhent Ti]>on him to 
prove, that he was not nnder J'emale govern- 
ment. From false bhium.', he ofttn repressed 
even the tenderness he felt for his mother, 
and forhore to pay her those little attentions, 
to which she had Ijeen habituated. Lady- 
Mary's quick feelings were immediately 
shown in the most iinpmdent manner, in 
all the hitter eloquence of reproach : she 
would have ohtained more gratitude from 
tier son, if she had exacted less. Ilje felt 
that he was to blame ; hut knew, that lie 
WiLB not the monster of ingratitude, which, 
her imagination and anger sometimes 
painted. To avoid discussions, which were 
extremely painful, he had gradually learned, 
of late, to slum her sotiety. By this rcci- 
yrocatton of enours. the mother and sou lost 
the advantage of the connexion by ivhicJt - 
nature and habit had imited them. Per- 
haps, the danger of Vivian's acqiiaiutance 
with the Whaitons might have been easily 
prevented in the beginning, if he had hud 
\ei6 reserve witlj his mother, or she more 



r 



126 VIVIAN, 

indulgence for him. And now, when tTiings" 
were come to such a point, that lady Mary 
thought it her duty to speak, she spoke 
with iHD much warmth and indignation, that 
there was little chance of her counsels fee- 
ing of use. 

"But,my dear madam, it is only a I'l atonic 
attachment," argnedVivian, when his mother 
represented to hini, that the world talked 
loudly of his intimacy with Mrs. Wharton. 

'■ A Platonic attachment! — Fashionable, 
i-'iingeroTis sophistry!" said lady Mary. 

" Why so, ma'am?" said her son warmly; 
" and why should we mind what the world 
lay i" — The world is so fond of scandal, that 
a iii:m and woumn cannot have any degre^ 
of friendship for one another, without a hue- 
iintl cry heing immediately raised — and aW' 
the prudes and ctMjuets join at once in be^ 
lieYing, or pretending to believe, that thertf' 
must be something wrong. No wonder" 
^iich a pretty woman as Mrs. Wharton can-- 
not escape envVj and, of course, censure ; ■ 
but her conduct can defy the utmost malice 
of her enemies." 

•' I hope soj" said lady Mary ; *' and, at 
all events, I am not-one of them. 1 koo\r 



f ■ — 1 

VlVIAiN. 1^7 

and care very little :kbout Mrs. Whiirtoii, 
nhom I have aiways been luciislouied to 
consider as a frivoluiH, silly ivoiniin ; hiit ' 
what I wish to sav, ihovigh I fear I have 
lost your con6deiice, and that my advice 

irill not ." 

" Frivolous 1 silly!'" intermpted Vivian; 
" believe roc, my dear mother, yon and hidf 
the world are, and have been, under a gieat 
mistake about her understanding and chn- 
Tacter." 

" Her forming a Platonic frleDcIslnp with 
a young man is no great proof of her sensii 
Or of her virtue," said lady Mary. "The 
danger of Platonic attachments, I thought, 
bad been sufliciiintly understood. Pray, 
my dear Charles, never let me hear more 
irom yon of Platonics with married wo- 
men." 

" I won't use the expression, ma'am, if 
you have any objection to it," said Vivian ; 
" but, mother, you wish me to live in the 
most fashionable company, and ret yoa 
desire me not to live as they live, and talk 
as they talk; now, that is next to impos- 
sible. Pardon niel but I should not have 
tliought," added he, laughing, " that you. 



1^ I 



;ty Lmrani 

[[ornia 



lay lue this book, 
1 as poHible, but 
due. 






41^ VIVIAN. 

wlio like most things that are fasbifmi 
would ohji'ct to Plaiontcs." . ■ 

" Object to them! — I despise, detesty 
abhpr them ! Platonics have been the ruitt 
pf mwe women, the destruction of the peacts 
of more familie?, tlian open profligacy ever 
could have accomplished. Many a married 
woman, who would have started with horrour 
at the idea of beginning an intrigue, "hast 
been drawn in to admit of a Plittonic atr 
tachment. And many a man, who would a& 
soon have thought of cojnmitting mmder, as 
of seducing bis friend's wife, has allowed 
himself to commence a Platonic attachments 
and how tbeee end, all the world knows." , 

Stnick by these wordsj Vivian suddenly 
quitted liis air of raillery, and became seri- 
ous. Had his mother stopped there, and^ 
left tbe rest to his good sense and awakened 
perception of danger, all wopld have been 
well ; but she was ever prone to say too 
mnch; and, iu her ardour to prove herself 
to be in the right, forgot that people ar« 
apt to be sliocked, by having it pointed out, 
that they are utterly in tbe wrong. 

*' Indeed, the very word Platouies," pur- 
sued she, " i$ coneidered by those, who hwraj 



L' 




VIVIAN. 129 

eeen any thing of life^ as the mere watch* 
word of knaves or dupes ; of those who de* 
ceive, or of those who wish ^ to be deceived •'* 

^^ Be assured, ma*am,** said Vivian, *^ that 
Mrs. Wharton is not oi^ of those, who wish 
either to deceive or to be deceived ; and, as 
to myself, I hope I am as far from any 
danger of being a dupe as of being a knave. 
My connexion with Mrs. Wharton is per^ 
fectly innocent ; it is justified by the exam- 
ple of hmidreds and thousands every day, 
in the fashionable world, and 1 should do 
her and myself great injustice, if I broke off 
our intimacy suddenly, as if I acknowledged 
that it was improper," 

*^ And what can be more improper } since 
you force me to speak plainly," cried lady 
Mary, " What can be more improper, than 
such an intimacy, especially in your circum^ 
stances ? " 

*^ My circumstances \ What circum^ 
stances, ma'am ? "^ 

*^ Have you forgotten miss Sidney ?" ^ 

** By no means, ma*am,"* said Vivian^ 
colouring deeply ; " Mrs. Wharton is well 
apprised^ and was, from the first moment o£ 



our friendship, clearly informed, of my ^ 

engagements with miss Sidney." 

" And how do they agree with your at- 
tachment to Mrs. Witiuton ? " 

" Perfectly well, tnu'ani — Mr-i. Wharton 
understands all tliat porfcctly well, ma'am." 
" And miss Sidney ! da yon think she 
will understand it? — and is it not extraor- 
dinary, thiit I shouUl think more of her fcel- 
ini;s than you do}" 

At these i|ucstioi)s, Vivian hecame s<^ 
angry, that lie was incapable of listening 
further to reason, or to the best advice, 
even irom a mother, for whom he had the 
highest respect. Tlie motlier and sot 
parted with feelings of mutual dissatis- 
fuetioR. 

Vi\ianj frem that sjiirit of oppositrai 
Ktxiftcn seen in weak characters, went ir* 
niediately from his mother's lecture to 
party at Mrs, Whartou s. Lady Mary, ia 
the mean time, sat down to write to miss 
Sidney. Whatever reluctance she had ori- 
ginally felt to her son's marriage with this 
young lady, it mnst be repeatedj to her lady- 
ship's credit, thatSelina's honourable and dis^ 



VIVIAN. 131 

interested condact bad won her entire appro- 
bation. She wrote, therefore, id the strong- 
est terms, to press the immediate conclasiun 
of that match, which she now considored 
aa tlie only chance of securing her son's 
morals and happiness. Her letter cundaded 
witli these words ; — 

" I shall expeet you in town directly. 
" Do not, my dear, let any idle scruples 
"prevent you irum coming to my Imjuso. 
" Consider that my happiness, your own, 
*' and my sou's, depend upon your com- 
" pliance. I am persuaded, that the mo- 
" inent he sees you, the moment you exert 
" your power over him, he will he himself 
"again. But, believe me, I know tho 
" young men of the present day better than 
"you do; tiicir constancy is not proof 
" against absence. IF he lose the habit of 
" seeing aud conversing with yun, I cannot 
"answer lor the rest. — Adieu 1 I iim BO 
" much harrassed by iny own thuught!i, and 
" by the repoils I hear, that I scarcely know 
" what I write. Pray come immediately, 
i*' my dear Selina, that I may talk to you of 
f many subjects, on which I don't like to 
'" trust myself to write. My feelings ha^* 



^ 



r 



" b©co too long pepressod. — I mast unbor- 
" den my heart to you. — I'ou only can 
** console and assist me ; and, independ- 
* ently of all other considerations, yon owe 
*' to ray friendship for you, Selina, not to 
** refuse this first request! ever made you. — - 
*' Farewel ! I shall exjwct to see you a» 
'* BOOQ as possihle. 
** St. James's " Yours, Slc. 

" Street.^' " Mary Vivian." 

In this letter, lady Mary Vi^an had not 
explained the nature of her son's danger, or 
of her fears for lum. Motives of delicacy 
liad prevented her from explicitly telling 
miss Sidney her suspicions, that Vivian was 
attached to a married woman. " Selina,* 
said her ladysJiip to herself, " must, proba- ■ 
biy, have heard the report from Mr.G— — y 
a gentleman who is so often at her mother's ; 
therefore, there can be no necessity for my'-I 
saying any more tlian I have done. She 
will understand my hints. ' 

Unfortunately, however, miss Sidney dUl 
not comprehend, or in the least suspect, the i 
lUost material part of the truth j she nnder- 
j^od simply, from lady Mary's letter, that 



VIVIAN. 133 

^'iv'iaa's ftfibctioes wavered, and ftbe inui- 
^ined, that lie was, perhaps, en the point of 
loakiiig inatriniouial proposals for somi:' 
t'asliionable beile, probuI)Iy for one of tbe^ 
lady Lidliursts; but the idea of bis l>ecDiu- 
iog attached to a married n'oiiian never 
«Btered her tlioughts. Indeed, Mrs. Sidney 
liaii, with mistaken kindness, naed every 
possible precaution to prevent any report or 
liint of this kind from reaching Setiua. Mr. 

G bad mentioned it to Mrs. Sidney ( 

but, fi-om the dread of g:iving; ber daughter 
pain, she had conjured him never to give 
Selina the least hint of what she was con- 
vinced would ttirn out to be a false reports 
Selina, on ber jiart, teiuing to he iufin^iced 
*>y her mother's indulgent counsels, resolved 
*o answer lady Mary's letter, without con- 
•tiiting her, and without considering any 
.yjitig, hut what ought to l»e her deci- 
sion. Maoy motives conspired to incline 
•^Hiia to accept of the invitation. The cer- 
tainty, that lady Mary would be highly 
pSended by a refusal ; the hint, that her in- 
fluence over Vivian would ojwrate imme- 
diately, and in all it's foi-ce, if he wei'« t« »ee 



ISi VIVIAN. 

and converse witli her, and tliat, on thv 
contrary, absence miglit extinguish his pas^ 
sion for ever ; cnrlosity to learn jireci&ely the- 
nature of the reports, which his mother had 
heard to his disadvantage; but, above all, a' 
fond wish to be nearer to the man she loved,. 
and to have daily opportunities of seeing 
him, prompted Selina to comply with lady 
Mary's request. On the contrary, good' 
senee and delicacy represented, that she had 
released Vivian from all promises, all en«- 
gagements ; that, at parting, slit- had pro- 
fessed to leave him perfectly at liberty : that 
it ivonld, therefore, be as indelicate as iin-' 
prudent, to make such an attempt to reclaim 
his inconstant heart. She had told him, 
that she desired to have proof of the steadi-' 
ness, both of his character and of his attach-' 
ment, before she could consent to marry 
him. From this decision she could not^ 
ahe would not recede. She had the forti- 
tude to persist in this resolution. She wrote 
to lady Mary Vivian in the kindest, hut, at 
the same time, in the most decided terms, 
declining the tempting invitation. "When 
she had heroically signed, sealed, and sent 



the letter, she showed her mother lady 
Mary's letter, and told her hon-, and ivliy she 
liad answered it without consulting her. 

" I was afraid otyonr indulgent afTectioti 
for me," said Selina. " I knew, that your 
judgment must decide as mine has done, but , 
that you would dread to give me present J 
pain ; therefore I have had thf courage to I 
determine for myself," ] 

Selina w^as surprised and mortified hy the ■ 
sudden and uncontrollable expression of ^ 
vexation io her mother's countenance. ] 

" Surely, my dear mother and friend, you 'i 
cannot hut think I have done right I " j 

" Young women never do right, when , 
they don't consult their friends," said Mrs . 
Sidney pettishly. These were almost the 
•nly angry words Selina had ever heard , 
from her mother ; and, as she expected high 
praise, instead of blame, she stood quite J 
confounded. 

*' Nay, don't look so miserable, child," , 
said Mrs.-Sidney ; " it's more my fault than I 
yours, after all ; but I would not, for any I 
consideration, you had declined this invita- ' 
tion. — Is the letter gone ? "' 

." Yes, laa'ainj two hours ago 



!S6 VIVIAN. 

" Ah r my dear ! I shonld have t(^ 

jiou' but then, I cooLd not iadei 

I ctmid not tell you I " 

"What? my dear mother!" cried S 
Koa eagerly. •' Pray tell me the wholw 
truth!" 

No — Mrs. Sidney could not bring hi 
eelf to pive so much present pain, especially 
when she saw, by the anxiety expressed va 
Seliaa's countenance, how mnch her sensi- 
bility was excited even by this slight hint. 

" My love," said she, " compose your- 
seli^ and every thing nill turn out, voft'll' 
see, just as we wish. All young men, par- 
ticularly all fashionable young meny are a] 
little inclined to inconstancy; aud Vivian^; 
who is now plunged into tbe midst of dissv* 
pation, must have some allowances made- 
for him, and for tbe times. All will be; 
right at last, you'll see ; and, upon tbe whole, 
I think, my darling, you have judged, a» 
you always do, best; and, on manyac-. 
counts, I am glad that you did not accept, 
of lady Mary's invitation. — So forgive m*,, 
my hasty words, and keep up your spirits, 
my child, and all will be well," 
With eiich vagiie words of consolation 



J 



VIVIAW. 137 

I 
^oor Selina might be soothed, Imt she could 
not l>e rx«ntbrte<l : ehe was sii[)|iorted 
more hy the comciousneRS that slie bad, 
buwever piiiiifsl the effi>rt, done all tliat siiC 
ibunglit right and hononrablt. 

It happened, that Vivian was with his nuj- 
tfier at the Bjojuent when Selina's aiis«"er ar- 
m-ed. In the firm belief, tliiit such aprcsoing 
iovitatioQ as she had sent lo a person iit 
Selina's circumst;mces, and of Selina's tem- 
per, coald not be refused, her ladysliip had 
Uiiide it a point with her sou to dine tett-a- 
ttitc with her this day ; and she had heea 
talking to him in the most eloquent, but 
iiBprodent manner, of the contrast between 
tl'e characters of Mrs. Wharton and niits 
Sidney. He protested, that his esteem and 
love for mm Sidney were unabated ; yet, 
vhea his mother told bini, that he would, 
perhaps, in a tew miuates, see his Selina, 
he changed colour, grew embarrassed and 
melancholy, and thus, by his looks, etfcc- 
tually conti-adicted his words. He was 
roiued from his reverie by the arrival of 
ina's letter. His mother's dttappuint- 
faeut and anger were expressed in tha 
mroogest terms, wheusha found thatSelin* 



T 



138 VIVIAN. 

decHuetl her invitation j but such are the 
fjuick and steraingly perverse turns of th» 
human heart. — Vivian grew warm in Se- 
liiia's defence, the moment that his mother 
became angry with her; be read her letter 
with tender emotion, for he saM' through 
the whole of it the Htrengthj as well as the 
delicacy, of her attachment. All that his 
mother's praises had failed to effect wa» 
iinmediately accomplished by this letter ; 
and he, who but an instant before dreaded 
to meet Selina, now that she refused to 
come, was seized with a strong desire to 
see her: his impatience was so great, that 
he would willingly have set out that infant 
for the country. Men of such characters as 
Vivian's are pecnliaily jealous of their frfce 
will i and, precisely because they know, that 
tliey are easily led, they resist, in affairs of 
the heart especially, the slightest appear; , 
of control. '' 

Lady Mary was delighted to bear be* 
son declare bis resolution to leave town ths, 
next morning, and to see miss Sidnejr^ 
as soon as possible ; but she could not for- 
bear reproaclung him for not doing what 
she wanted precisely in the uiainicr 



TIVIA.V. 139 

which she had pJanocd, that it shonld be 
done. 

" I see, my dear Charles," cried she, 
•• thai, even when yon do right, I most not 
flatter myself, that it is owing to any in- 
fluence of mine. (live my (.ompliinents to 
miss Sidney, and assure her, that I shall 
ill fntnre forbear to iiijnre her in your opi- 
nion by my interference, or even by ex- 
pressing my approbation of her character. 
My anger, it is obvions, has served her 
better than my kindness; and, therefore, 
she has no reason to regret, that my affec- 
tion has been lessened — as 1 confess it has 
beeii_ — by her late conduct." 

The next morning, when Vivian was pre- 
pared to leave town, he catted upon Whar- 
ton, ,-tu settle with Iiim about some political 
business, which was to Ije transacted in his 

absence. Wharton was not at home 

Vi%-ian knew, tliat it would be best to avoid 
seeing Mrs. Wharton; but he was afraid 
that she would be oflended, and lie could 
Dot help sacrificing a Jew mhintes to polite- 
ness. The lady was alone ; apparently very 
languid, and charmingly melancholy. Be- 
fore Vivian could explain himself, she 



140 VIVIAN, 

poured fortii, in silly phrases, bat m a 
that made even nonsense please, a variety 
reproaclien, for his having absented himself 
for such ft lenjrth of time. — " Positively, shi 
would keep hira prisoner, now that she ha^ 
him safe once more." To he kept pri 
soner by a fair lady was so flatterJn}^, tha 
it was a full lioiir hefore he could prevai 
upon himself to asBert hia liberty — the feai 
of giving pain, indeed, influenced hira stii| 
more thsQ vanity. At last, Mhen MrOh 
Wharton spoke of her enffagementa for tlw 
evening, and seemed to taku it i'or granted^ 
thitt he would he oi' Uer party, ho 
moned resolution sufficient — Oh ! woqf? 
derfnl effort of courage ! — to tell her, that he 
was onder a necessity of leaving town immef 
diateJy. 

" Going, I presume, to ." 

" To the country," said Vivian firmly. 

" To the country !— — No, no, no ; say, 
once, to S^liual — Tell me the ivorst in ( 
word!" 

Astonished heyoud nieasure, Vivian had! 
not power to move. The lady fell hack 
the sofa iu violent hysterics. Our hent 
tiemblcd lest any gf her servants shoiUA 



VIVIAN. 141 

come in, or lest her husband should, at his 
retorii, find her in this condition, and dis- 
cover the cause. He endeavoured in vain 
to sooth and compose the vreeping fair 
one; be could not have the barbarity to 
leave her in this state. By sweet degrees, 
«te recovered her recollection — was in the 
fflost lovely confusion — asked where she was 
•^and what was going to happen. Vivian 
had not the rashness to run the risk of a 
^ond fit of hysterics; he gave up all 
ftoughts of his jonmey for this day, and the 
iady recovered her spirits in the most flat- 
^«ring manner. Vivian intended to post- 
Poae his journey only for a single day ; but, 
^er he had yielded one point, he found 
that there was no receding. He was now 
|)ersuaded, that Mrs. Wharton was miser- 
>able; that she would never foi:give herself 
f<MP haTing betrayed the state of her heart. 
His self-love pleaded powerfully in her fa- 
vour; he considered, that her husband 
treated her with mortifying neglect, and 
provoked the spirit of retaliation by his gal- 
lantries. Vivian fancied, that Mrs. Whar- 
ton's attachment to him mis^ht leudet \v^^ 



142 VIVIAN. 

wretched, but would never make her crimi- 
nal. With sophistical delicacy, he veiled 
his own motives; and, instead of following 
the plain dictates of reason, he involved his 
understanding in that sjwcies of sentimental 
casuistry, which confounds all principles of 
right and wrong. But the dread that he 
felt, lest Wharton should discover what was 
going on, might have sufficiently convinced 
him, that he was not acting honourably. 
The suspicions, which Mr. Wharton for- 
merly showed of his wife, seemed now to be 
completely lulled asleep; and he gave Vi- 
vian, continually, such proofs of confidence, 
as stung him to tlie soul. By an absurd, 
but not an -nncomnion errour of self-love, 
Vivian was induced to believe, that a man, 
who professed to cheat mankind in general, 
behaved towards hiin in particular with strict 
honour, and even with nnparallelled gene- 
rosity. Honesty was too vulgar a virtue for 
Wharton ; but honour, the aristocratic, ex- i 
elusive virtue of a gentleman, he laid claim I 
to in the highest tone The very frankness " 
with which Wharton avowed his libertine 
principles, with respect to women, cou- 



J 



k 



VIVIAN. U3 

Vxnced Vivian, that lie bad not tlie slightest 
iQsptcion, that these could he immediately 
applied to the niia of his own wife. 

" How can you, iny dear Wliarton, talk in 
this manner!" said Vivian, once, when he 
had been speaking with great freedom, i 
" Bat it is better," added be, with it sigh, 
" to speak, than to act like a villain." 

" Villain!" repeated Wharton, with a 
sarcastic langb } "you are grown quite ri- 
diculous, Vivian: I protest, I don't under- 
stand you. Women, nowadays, are surely 
able, if not willing enough to take care of 
diemselvcs; and vUlahis, though they were 
very common in the time of miss Clarissa 
Harlowe, and of all the tiagedy queens of 
the last century, are not to be heard of in 
these days. Any strange tales of those 
male monsters, called seducers, could gain 
credit, during the ages of ignorance and cre- 
dulity ; but now, the enlightened world can- 
not be imposed upon by such miracles ; and 
a gentleman may be a man of gallantry — 
nay, even a ladv may be a woman of gallantry 
— without being booted out of society as a 
monster; at all events, the blame is, 



J 



VU VIVIAN. 

. should bf, etpially divided behveen the partii 
concerned; and, if modem !o%trs quatref^ 
they do not die of grief, Imt settle their diP 
ferences in a comt of law, where a spinster 
may have htr fDnipeiisa,tion for a Ijveach oil 
contract of marriage ; a father or a hnsbanj 
their damages for the loss of the companyj 
affection, solace, services, &Ct as the cas^ 
may be, ■of his wife or daBgliter. Al! th^ 
is perfectly well untkrstood, and the terrotii'^ 
of law are quite sufficient, withont thA 
terronrs of sentiment,— If aman pnnish him' 
self, or let himself be punished, twice for th( 
same offence, once l)y his conscience, and' 
once by liis king and his conntry, he is 
fool ; and, moreover, acts contrary to thff 
spirit of the British law, which sayeth — •' 
sec Biackstone an<I others^ that no man' 
shall be punished twice for the same of^ 
fence, — Suffer your risible muscles to relax," 
i beseecli yon, Vivian; and do not affect a' 
presbyteriaiv ngidity, which becomes youf) 
face as ill as your age," 

" I affect nothing — C(*tainly I do nolf 
affecf presbyterian rigidity!" cried Vivian, 
laughing. "But, after all, Wharton, if yoir 




MVIAN. UJ ' 

id a danghter or a sister, what would voa 
Aiink of any man, your fru'iitl, for instance, 

fcpho should atteinpt? " 

" To cut your speech short, at once," lu- 
lermpted Whiirton, '* I should not think 
at all about the matter; I should blow his 
Ih^us out, of coarse ; and, aftcnvanls, pro- 
Itably, blow out my own. But treachery 
from a friend — from a iimn of honour — is 
■a tiling of wliich I can hardly form an idea. 1 
Where I give my coufideute, I give it with- | 
out any paltry, mentul reservation — I could ] 
aot sunpcct a friend." I 

Vivian sufltired, at this instant, all the 
agony, which a -generous mind, conscious of j 
guilt, could endure, lie thought, that the , 
conliision of his mind must be visible in his 
Countenance — his embarrassment was so 
great, that he could not' utter a word. 
Wharton did not seem to perceive his 
companion's agitation, but passed ou care- 
iewly to other subjects of convcrsatioui and 
at length completely relieved Vivian from 
fear of immediate detection, by asking a fa- 
vour from him — a j>ecuniaiy favour. 

'* All is safe — Mrs. Wharton, at least, is 
safe, thank Heaven ! " thought Vivian. "Had 

VOL. V. M 



I4(i VIVIAN, 

tit r husband tlie slightest suspicion, he never' 
winikl coiiiifsceiul to iiccept of iiay fuvoui" 
Jroiii me." 

With eagerness, and ahiiost with tears of 
iiratitiidc, Virian pressed upon Wharton the 
money, nliii'h he condescended to Imrrow — 
it was no incousideiahlc sum. 

"Wharton I" cried he, " you sometimcB 
talk freely — too freely; bnt yon are, I am 
convineed, the most ojjen-hearted, nnsus- 
|jicious, generous feliow upon Earth — y< 
deserve a better friend than I am. 

Unable any longei- to suppress or eonceal 
tlie emotions, which struggled in his lieart; 
he broke away abraptly, hurried home, shnt 
himself up in his own ajJartnient, and sat 
down immediately to write to Mrs, Whar- 
ton. The idea that Mrs. Whartmi loved 
him in preference to all the fa^hiouahlc 
coxcombs and wits, by whom she ivaa sur- 
rounded, had insensibly raised our hero's 
opinion of her nnderstanding so much, that 
ke now imagined, that the world laboiu'ed 
under a prejudice agiiinst her abilities. He 
gave himself credit tor having discovered, 
that this Ijeimty was not a foul ; and he now 
spoke and wrote to her, as if she had been 



us- H 



VIVIAN. HT 

Konian of seAse. With t.'lo<|nenrc, «)ik-b 
l^ight have moved a uoiiiitii of gcoius ; witli 
delicacy, tiiat iniglit luive tuitctted a iv<tiiiaa 
^if feeling, he conjureti her to toitily his ho- 
iiourable resolutions, und thns, wbiUt it wu^ 
ytt tuae, to secure her hapfiinest iutfl Jiti* 
own. ** Instead of writing; this k-tter," 
added he, in a. poslscri]»t, " I oiijjiht, jter- 
haps, to fly from von for evtrj hnt thai 
would show a want of coutidence in Ton 
and in myself; and, liesides, ujx)n the most 
matnre refltction, I thiiUv it hest to stay, and 
wait upon you to morrow, as usuul, lest, by 
my precipitation, I should excite snspicioli 
in Wharton's mind." 

Tlie weak apprehension, that Mrs. Whar- 
ton should Ijetray herself bv another fit of 
hysterics, if he should leave town, and if 
his departure should be suddenly annouuced 
to her by her husband or by some com- 
mon accjuaintance, induced him to delay a 
few days longer, that he might prepare her 
mind by decrees, and convince her of the ne- 
cessity for their absolute separation. When 
he had finished his letter to Mr?, W harton, 
he was sufficiently well jileasi'd with him- 
self to venture lo write to miss Sidney. His 

H 3 



148 VIVIAN. 

letters to her liad^ of late^ heea 4hort ant 
constrained ; but tbis was written with the 
lull flow of affection. He was now in 
faopes^ that he s^hoidd extricate himself bo- 
nonrably from his difficnlties^ and that he 
might at last claim his reward from Seliaa. 




CHAPTER VI. 



After he had dispatched his two letters, 
he became excessively anxious to receive 
Mrs. Wharton's answer. By trifling, bnt 
nnavoidable accidents, it was delayed a few 
hours. At last, it arrived: Vivian tore it 
open, and read, with surprise, these words. 
" Your letter is just what I wished, 
"and makes me the happiest of wom^n — 
''that is, if you arc sincere — which, ftfter 
" all you've said, I can't doubt. I am so 
" hurried by visitors, and annoyed, that I 
" cannot "nTite more; bnt shall have time 
" to talk, to night, at the opera." 

At the opera, Mrs. Wharton appeared' 
in high spirits, and was dressed wit^ 
more than usual elegance. It wa3 observed, 
that she had never heen seen to look so. 
beautiful. There was something in her 
manner, that puzzled Vivian extremely : this 
'extraordinary gayety was not what he had. 
reason to expect. "Is it possible," thought 



wo V I V I A N. 

lie, '* tbat this woman is a mere coquette,- 
who has bfcn amusing herself at my ex- 
l»cnse all this time ; and can now break off 
all connexion with mej without a mo* 
ment's regret?" V'iviiin's pride was piqnetl: 
though he wished to part from the lady, he 
could not bear, that this pai-ting should evi- 
dently cost her nothing. He was mortifiec^ 
fjcyond expression, by the idea, tbat he had 
l)t'in duped. After the opera was overi 

- whilst Mrs, Wharton was waiting for Iirt 
ofirviagc, he had an opportunity of speaking 
to tier withotit being overheard. 

"J am happy," said he, with a C(W- 

. strained voice, " 1 am extremely happy ta. 
see you, madam, in such (.'harming spirits 
to night." 

*' But are not you a strange man to look so 
grave ? " cried Mrs. Wharton. " I vmv, I don't* 
know what to make of you ! But I believe you 
waiit to (juarrel for the pleasure of making it 
up again. — Now that won't do. — By the bye, 
I have a quarrel with yon, sir. — How came 
yon to sigB your name to thdt foolish stuff" 
you wrote me yesterday ? Never do so any 
more, I charge yon, for fear of accident! 

..5ftt;what's the mutter, now? — You ate a 



VIVIAN. 1.51 

strange mortal I — Are you goinj; to die upon ' 
the spot? — What is tlif matterr" 

" My letter to yon wa-' not si^n^d, I be- 
lieve,'* said Vivian in an altered voice. 

" Indeed it was," said Mrs. Wharton. 
** It was signed Charles Vivian, at fill! 
length. — Bnt why are yon in such treinours 
«l)out it? I only mentioned it, to put you on 
your guard in future. — I've burnt the letter 
— people always get tlieniselrcs into scrapes, 
if they don't burn love letters — as I've ofte'n 
heard Mr. Wharton say," added s\i6, 
laughing. 

To his nospetdiable coniternadon, Vivian 
now discovered, that lio had sent the letter 
intended for Selina to Mrs. Wharton; and 
^Jit, which was designed for Mrs. Wharton, 
be had directed to miss Sidney. Vivian 
was so lost in thought, that the cry of, 
" Mrs. lyhartons carriage stops the tvayV" 
was vociferated many times before he re- 
covered sufficient presence of miud to hand 
the lady out of the house. He went home 
immediately, that he might reflect npon 
what was best to he done. His servant 
presently gave him a letter, which a mes- 
senger had just brought from the country. 
The packet was from Selina. 



Ufi VIVIAN. 

" Enclosed, I return a letter, which I 
" ceived from you this morning. 1 read tlie 
" three first lines of it before I perceived, 
*' that it conid not be intended for me — I 
" went no farther. — 1 cannot help knowing 

. " for whom it was designed; but you may, 
" be assured, that \-our &ecr«t shall be kept 

, " inviolably. You have no reproaches to 

" fear from me. — This is the last letter I shall 

'* ever write to you. Leave it to me to ex- 

" plain ray own conihict to my mother and 
" to yours; if they think me capricious, I, 
" can hear it. I shall tell them, that uty 
" sentiments are totally changed; 1 aia 
" sure I can say so with perfect truth.—— 

" Oh! Vivian, it is you who are to he pitied; 
'' every thing may Ire endured except re- 
'• morse. Would to Heaven I could savft 
" yoa from the reproaches of your own: 
" heart! — Adieu! 

" Selina Sidney." 

Tlie feelings of Vivian's mind, on reading 
.this letter, cannot he described. Admira- 
.tion, love, tenderness, remorse, successively 
veized upon his heart. Incapable of any 
distinct reflection, he threw himself upoa 
his bed, and closed bis eyes, endeavouring 



to compose himself to sleep, that he might ij 
forget fais existence. But, motionless as he 
lay, the ttimolt of his mind toutiimed iin- j 
abated. His pnlse beat high; and, before ] 
morning, he was in a fever. The dread, i 
that hia mother should come to attend him, j 
and to inqnire into the canse of his illness,, 
increased his agitation; — she came. Her i 
kindness and anxiety were fi-esh torments ll 
to her irahappy son. Bitterly did he re- 
proach hfnieeUV as the cause of misery to 
those he loved and esteemed most in tho 
"world. He became delirious; and, whilst j 
he was in this state, he repeated Mrs. ! 
Wharton's name sometimes in tonos of i 
endearment, sometimes in accents of exe- J 
cration. His mother's suspicions of his in- 
trigue were confirmed by many expressions,, 1 
which hurst from him, and which were ' 
thought, by his- aHendants, to be merely 
the ravings of fever. Lady Mary had, 
«t this crisis, the prudence to conceal her 
doubts, and to keej) every body, as much as 
.■possible, out. of her son's apartment. In a 
^few days, his fever subsided, and he reco- 
'Teied to the clear recollection of all that 
'had passed previously to his illness. He- 
u 5 



■ litV VIVIAN. 

I almoAt wished to be again delirious. Tlie 

' first time he was left alone he nti-e from bis 

bed, unlocked his hureim, and seized SelinaV* 

letter, which he read again and again, stad^- 

Iing each line aod M'onf, as if he conld draw^ 
from them every time a new meaning. 
" She read but three lines of my letter," 
said he to himself ; " then she only gnesses, ; 
tlmt ] have an intrigue witli Mrs. Wharton, 
without knowing, that, in this very letter, I 
used my utmost influence to recal Mri. 

Wharton to herself ." 

The beHef that Selina thought worse of 
him than he deserved was some consolation 
to Vivian. He was resolved to recover her 
esteem ; he determined to break off ail con- 
I ncxion with Mrs. Wharton ; and, fill! of 
this intention, he was Impatient till the phy- 
sicians permitted him to go abroad. When 
be was, at lust, free from their dominion, 
bad escaped from his chamber, and had jost 
gained the staircase, he was stopped by his 
uiotber. 

" Chai'les," said she, " before yon quit 
me again, it is my duty to say » few words 
to you upon a tubjecl of some import- 



VIVIAN. 155jj 

Lady Mary led the way to her dressing- . 
room with a dignified air; Vivian followed^ - 
with a mixture of pride and ahirm in his. ■ 
manner. From the hai-e idea of a raater- ^ 
nal lecture his mind re^'olted : he imagined, , J 
that she was going to repeat the runion- 
strance, which she had formerly made 
againe^ his intimacy with Mrs, Wharton, 
and against Platonics in general ; but he had , 
Dot the least apprcliension, that she had dix- _ 
covered the whole trutli : he was, dieref'ore^ 
both surprised and shocked, when she spoke 
to him in the following iiiiinncr : 

" The libertinism of ttie iigc in which wc 
live luis so far loosened all the bonds of so^ 
ciety, and all the ties of nutnrc, that 1 doubt 
uot, bnt a mother's anxiety for the nionUs 
of her son — her only son — the son over 
whose education she has watched fnHU his 
ini^tncy, may appear, even in hia eyes, a fit 
tahject for ridicule.. I am welt aware, that 
my soiicitnde and my counsels have long ■ 
keen irksome to hi*n. — I have lost his af- 
fections by a steady adherence to my dnty; 
but I shall persevere, with the less relnc- 
hince, since the dread of my displeasure, or 
the hope of my approbation, cannot noit'* 



.,.156 VIVIAN. 

touch his aeiisUjility. During your illness^^i 
you have betrayed a secret — You have rea_ — 
son to start with horrour. Is it possible, tha.£ 
a son of mine, with the princijdes which 1- 
have endeavoBred to instil into his niin<l> 
should become so far depraved ? Do I live 
to hear, from his own lips, that he is the 
seducer of a married woman — and that 
voman the wife of his friend:" 

Vivian walked iip and down the room iD' 
great agony; his mother continued, with' 
increased seventy of manner — 

" 1. say nothing of yonr dissimulatioD 
with me, nor of all your Platonic sub- 
terfuges — I know, that, with a man of in- 
trigue, falsehood is deemed a virtue. I 
shall not condescend to intjiiire farther into 
jour gwlty secrets — I. now think myself 
fortonatei in having no place in your confi* 
dencc. But I here declare, to yon, in thft 
most soleum manner, that I never will se* 
you again until all connexion between yoB> 
and Mrs. Wharton is utterly dissolved, t- 
do not advise — I command^ and must l» 
oWyed — or I cast you off for ever." 

Lady Mary left the room as she uttered^ 
these words. Her so%. vi'<x,« iWii^\'^ «^\>w^ 



1^ 



VIVIAN, 157 

.iritli his mother's eloquence : he knew she 
■was right, yet his pride was wounded by 
the peremptory severity of her manner: — 
his remorse, and his good resolutions, gave 
-place to anger, Tlie more he felt himselF- 
in the wrong, the less he conld hear to be 
reproached by the voice of authority. Even 
because his mother commanded him to give- 
up all connexion with Mrs. Wliartoo, he 
was inclined to disobey — he could not bear 
to seem to do right merely in compliance 
to her will. He went to visit Mrs. Whar- 
ton in a very difiereut temper from that 
in ^vhichj half an hour befora this conference 
■with his mother, he had resolved to see the 
lady. Mrs, Wharton knew how to take 
advantage both of the weakness of bis cha- 
racter and of the generosity of bis temper. 
' She fell into transports of grief when she 
■ fonnd, that lady Mai-y Vivian and miss Sid- 
ney were in possession of her secret. It was 
in vain that Vivian assured her, that it 
would be kept inviolably; she persisted in 
repeating, " that her reputation was losB; 
that she had sacrificed every thing for a 
I man, who would, at last, .desert her in the 
'Biost treacherous and barbarous manuerj 



158 VIVIAN. 

leaving her at the mercy of her husband, 
the most profligate, hard-hearted tyrnnt 
upon Earth. As to her being reconciled to 
him," she declared, " that was totally out 
of the qnestion ; his behavionr to her was 
such, that she could not live with him, c^^en • 
if her heart were not fatally prepossessed in 
favour of another." Her passions seemed 
wronglit to the highest pitch. With all the 
eloquence of beauty io distress, she ap- 
pealed to Vivian, as her only friend ; she 
threw herself entirely upon his protection ; 
she vowed, that she could not, would not 
remain another ddy in the same house with 
Mr. Wharton ; that her destiny, bcr exist- 
ence, were at Vivian's mercy. Vivian had 
■ot sufficient fortitude to support this scene. 
He stood irresolute. The present tehipta- 
lion prevailed over his better resolutions. 
He was actually persuaded by this woman, 
whom he did not love, whom he could not 
esteem, to carry her oft" to the continent — 
whilst, at the very time, he admired, es- 
teemed, and loved another. The plan of the 
elopement was formed and settled in a few 
asinutes. On Mrs. Wharton's part, appa- 
rently, with all the hurry of passion ; on Vi- 



VJ\'1AN. 159 

vian's, with all the confiisioii of despair. 
The same carriage, the very same liorsM* 
tiiat hail bees ordered to carry onr hero to 
Ids beloved Selina, conveyed him and Mr8. 
Wharton the first stage of their flight to- 
■tards the continent. The next niornrng, 
titc folloving paragraph njipearcd iu the 
uwspapors : 

" Yesterday, the beautiftil and fashion- 
able Mrs. W******, whose marriage we 
anmmnced last year to the celebrated Mr. 
W******, eloped from his house in St, 
James's Street, in company with C****** 
V*****, member for shire. This ca- 
tastrophe has caused the greatest sensation 
and astonishment in the circles of fashion ; 
for the lady in tjuestion had always, till 
this fatal step, preserved the most iiuble- 
jnisheil reputation ; and Mr. and Mrs. 
\y"«««#** were considered as models of 
conjugal felicity. The injured husband was 
attending his public duty in the house of 
commons ; and, as we arc credibly in- 
""fonned, was, with patriotic ardour, speak- 
'ing in his country's cause, when this un- 
fortunate event, which for ever bereaves 



A 



J60 VIVIAN. 

him of domestic happiness^ took place; 
What must increase the poignancy of his 
feelings, upon the occasion, remains to be 
stated — that the seducer was his intimate 
friend, a^ young raan> whom he had raised^ 
into notice m public life, and whom he had^ 
with all that warmth and confidence of 
heart, for which he is remarkable, intro«* 
duced into his house, and trusted with his^ 
beloved wife. Mr. W****** is^ we hear^, 
inr pursuit of the fugitives.!* 




CHAPTER VII. 



In the modern, fusliionable code of ho- 
nour, when a man has seduced, or carried 
tiffhis friend's wife, the next thing he has 
to do is to fight the man whom he has in 
jni-ed and betrayed. By thus appealing to 
the ordeal of the duel, he may not only 
clear himself from guilt ; hut, if it be done 
'with proper spirit, he may acquire celebrity 
and glory in the annals of gallantry, and in 
the eyes of the fair and innocent. In our 
hero's place, most men of fashion would 
have triumphed in the notoriety of his of- 
fence, and would have rejoiced in an oppor- 
tnnity of offering the husband the satisfac- 
tion of a gentleman. But, unfortunately 
for Vivian, he had uot yet suited his prin- 
dples to his practice : he had acted like a 
man of fashion ; hut, alas ! he still thought 
l*nd felt like a man of virtue — as the fol- 
lowing letter will show. 



^j9^ VIVIAN. 

" To the Rev. Henry Rl'ssell, 
" Indignant as you will be, Rassell, at 
'• all you hear of me, yon cannot be more 
" shocked than I am myself. I do not write 
" to palliate, or apologize — my cnndnct 
" admits of no defence — 1 shall attempt 
" none, private, or public — I have written 
*' to my lawyer to give directions, that no 
" sort of defence shall be set up, on my part, 
" when the affair conies into Doctors Con*- 
" mons — as it shortly will ; for, I undet- 
" stand, that poor Wharton has commenced 
" a prosecution. As to dami^s, he has 
" only to name tl.tein — Any thing within 
*' the compass of my fortiine he may com- 
" mand — Wonld to God that money coold 
" make him amends! — Bnthe is too genei^ 
" ous, too noble a fellow — profligatt 
" he is in some things, how incapable would 
" he be of acting as basely as I have donet 
" There is not, perhaps, at this moment, 
" human being, who has so high au opinicni 
" of the man I have injured, as 1 have niy- 
" self : — he did not love his wife — Imt 
" that is no excuse for me ■ — Ids honom- i» 



" as moch wonoded, as it' I had robbed hiin 
" of her dnring the tiine he loved her eiost 
" fondly : — he once doated npon her, and 
" would have loved her again, when he was 
" tired ot his gdll^ntries ; and theT might 
" then hare lived together, hs hap|)ilr as 

" ever, if 1 had not been What 

" was I ? — What am I ? — Xot a villain — 
" or I should glory in what I liave done — 
" bat the weakest of hmn^m beings — And 
" how tme it is, Russell, that ' all wicked 

" iiess is weakness !' 

" I understand, that W , wherever 

" he goes, caiU me a coward, as well as a 
" scoundrel ; and says, that I have kejjt ont 
" of the way to avoid fighting him. — He is 
'* mistidten. — It is true, I had the utmost 
" dread of having his life to answer for — 
" and nothing should have provoked loe to 
" Bre n])on hbn ; — but I had determined 
"' how to act — I would have met him, and 
" have stood his fire. — I should not be 
" sorry, at present, to be put out of the 
'* ^-orld ; and would rather fall by his hand, 
* than by tiny other. But, since this is out 
" of the [question, and that things haya 
" taken another turn, I have only to live, as 



164 VIVIAN. 

" long as it shall please God, a life of rev 
" morse — and, at least, to try to make thc^^ 
" unfortuuatc woman, who has thrown hei*- 
" self upon my protection, as happy as I., 
" can. 

" If you have any remaining regard for at 
" pupil, who has so disgraced you, do raec 
" one favour — Go to miss Sidney, and giw 
*' her what comfort you can. Say nothing! 
"^^ for me, or of me^ but that I wish her tth 
" forget me, as soon as possible. She dia^^ 
" carded me from her heart, when she first, 
" discovered this inti'igue — before this last 
" fetal step. — Still 1 had hopes of recovep- 
" ing her esteem and aifection ; for I had 

" resolved . But no matter what £. 

" resolved — all my resolutions fiiiled; and: 
"jQOW I am utterly unworthy of her love^ 
" This, and all that is good and happy iit 
"life; all the fair hopes and virtuoiis pro*- 
" mises of my youth, I must give up. Earl^ 
" as it is in my day, my sun has set. £ 
" truly desire, that she should forget me —^ 
"for you know I am bound in honour — > 
" Honour! How dare I use the word? — X, 
" am bound, after the divorce, to marry the-^ 
" tf P,o:yip. I have seduced. Oh, Russell I' 



VIVIAN. 165 

■"what a Tpife for yonr friend! — What a 
■"danghter-in-law for my poor raother, 
"" after all her care of my edacation ! all 
■" her affection ! all her pride in me ! — It will 
"break her heart! Mine will not hreak. 
" I shall drag on, perhaps, to a miserable 
"old age. I am of loo feeble a nature to 
" feel these things as strong minds woald^ — 
" as yoQ will for me ; but do not blame yonr- 
" self for my faults. All that man could do 
" for me, yon did. This must be some con- 
" solation to you, my dear and excellent 
"friend! May 1 still call you friend? — 
" or have I no friend left upon Earth ? 

"C. Vivian." 

From this letter, some idea may he formed 
of what this unhappy man suffered, at this 
period of his life, from " the reflections of a 
mind not used to it's own reproaches." The 
view of the future was as dreadful as the 
retrospect of the past. His thoughts con- 
tinually dwelt upon the public trial which 
was preparing — before him he saw all it s 
disgracefiil ciraim stances. — Then the hor- 
rour of marrying, of passing his whole ftiture 
existence, with a woman, whom he could 



WSf VIVIAN, 

not esteem or trust ! Tlicse Itist weTl 
secret subjects of anxiety and angiiish, tl* 
more inteiiBely f<^lt, because he ruuld no 
speak of these teeliiigs and doubts to an; 
human being. — Such as Mrs. Wliartoi 
was, she was to be Lib wife; and he wa 
called upon to defend her against reproacl 
and insult, — if possible, from contemptJ 
During the course of six weeks, which the] 
spent together in exile, at Bnisscls, Vlviai 
became so altered in his appeai^ancCj tha 
his most intimate friends could scared^ 
have known him ; his worst enemies, if 
had had anyj could not have desired thtf 
prolongation of his sufl'erings. 

One evening, as he was sitting alone i& 
his hotel, ruminating hitter thought; 
letter was brought to him from Mr.RusaeHj 
the iirst he had received since he left Eng^ 
land. Every one, who has been absent froQf 
his friends in a foreign country, must 
know the sort of emotion, which the hare 
sight of a letter from home excites ; btit, in 
Vivian's circumstances, ubandoncil as h? 
felt himself, and deserving to he abandone4 
by his best friends, the sight of a letter fronj 
Russell so struck him, that he gazed upon 



VIVIAN. 167 

le direction for some miniitps, :ilinust with- 
ont power or \vi*ib to open it. At last he 
opened, and read ■ — 
" Ketnni to yoor country, your friends, 
and yourself, V'iviau! Yonr day is not 
yet overl Your suu is not yet set I Re- 
sume your energy — recover your self- 
" confidence — carry your good resolutions 
" into cflect — and you may yet be an 
*' honour to yonr fajnily, a delight to your 
fond mother, and the pride of your friend 
" Rnssell. — Your remorse has been poignant 
"and sincere; let it be sahitary and per- 
" manent in it's consetioences. The part of 
a man of sense and virtue is to make his 
past crrours of use to his future conduct. — 
Whilst I bad nothing to say, that could 
" give you pleasure, I forbore to answer 
" yoar letter. Now, I can relieve your mind 
froui part of the loud, by which it has 

" been oppressed. You ha\e not be-" 

''.trayed Mr. Wliarton — be has ■Iwtrayed 
yon. Yon have not seduced Mrs, Whar- 
ton • — you have been seduced by her. 
" Yon are not bound to marry hfr — Whar- 
*' ton cannot obtain a divorce — he dare 
" not bring the affair to trial ; if he does, 



r 



ifll' VIVIAN. 

" he U undone. There has been colInsicBj 
" between the parties. The proof of thu 
" you will find in the enclosed paper, which 
" will be sworn to, in due, legal fomij 
" whenever it is necessarj'. Even whei 
" you see tliem-, you will scarcely believe 
" these ' damning proofs ' of Wharton'i 
" baseness. But I always knew, I ;dwayt 
*' told you, that this pretence to honour and 
*' candour, frankness and friendshij), witlj 
" this avowed contempt of all principle 
" all virtue, could not be safe, could not b^ 
** sincere, would not stand tlte test. 
" No — nothing should make nie trust t» 
" the private honour of a man, so corrupt ia 
" public life as Mr. Wharton. A man, wha 
'* sells his conscience for his interest, will' 
" sell it for his pleasure. A man, who will. 
" betray his country, wiU betray his friend. 
•* It is in vain to palter with our conscience ;: 
" there are not two Imnours — two honesties 

"■ — it i» all one virtue — integrity! ■ 

" How I rejoice, at this moment, in the re-; 
" flection, that your character, as a public 
'* man, is yet untarnished. You have still 
" this great advantage : — feci it's value. — 
" Return, and distinguish yourself among 



VIVIAN I0» 

" yotur conntrynieD : distingaish yourself 
" l)y integrity, still more than by talcuts. 
" A certain degree of talents is now cheap 
" in England : integrity is what we want — 
" trae patriotism, true public spirit, noble 
" ambition ; not thftt vile scramble for places 
" and pensions, which some men call ambi- 
"Uon; not that bawling, brawling, T/icrsites 
" character, which other men call pulilic 
" spirit ; not that marketable commodity, ■ 
" with which Wharton, and such as he, 
"cheat popular opinion for a season: — 
" bnt that fair virtue, wliich will endure, 
" and abide by it's cause to the last; which, 
" in place or out, sliall be the same ; which, 
" snccessfijl or unsiiccessful, sliall sustain 
" the possessor'^ character through all 
" changes of party ; which, wliilst he li%'es, 
" shall command respect from even the most 
*' profligate of his contemporaries ; upon 
" which, when he is dying, he may reflect 
"with satisfaction; which, after his death, 
"shall be the consolation of his friends, 
" and the glory of his country. All this 
■ " is yet in your power, Vivian. — Come, 
" then, and fulfil the promisd of your early 
" years ! Come, and restore to your mother 



^^ 



r 



ff9 VIVIAN. 

" a son worthy of her I Come, and snrpRi 
' the ho])fs of yoiir true frUnd — 

" H. Ru-MELL." 

Tile rapid succession of feelings, witll 
which ^'^ivian read this letter, can scaroelj 
be imagined. The paper it enclosed waii 
from a fonner waiting maid of Mrs. Whar- 
ton's ; a woman, who was exjiected to be 
the principal evidence on Mr. Wliartdn'* 
aide. She had lieen his misti-ess; one irf 
those innumeralde mistresses, to whom h*' 
had, of course, addressed his transfer^Ifi 
promises of eternal constancy. She, too, of 
course, had believed the vow, in spite <^all 
experience and probability ; and, while ".he 
pardoned his infidelities to her raistresSj 
&c., :dl which she deemed very natural for d 
genthnum, like him, yet she was astonished- 
and outrageous, when she fonnd him faith- 
less to her own charms. In a fit of jea- 
lousy, she flew to Mr. Russell, whom shb 
knew to be Vivian's friend ; and, to revengtf 
herself on Wharton, revealed the secMlS/ 
which she had in her power ; pnt into Rus- 
sell's hands the proofs of collusion betweeti 
Mr, Wharton and liis wife ; and took mali- 



Sous pains to substantiate lier evidence, to 
lawyer's fall satisfaction; knnwinp;, that 
she luigltt pre\"eiit tlie possi^iIity of a di- 
foTce, and I^at she should thus punish her 
Iwjared inconstant in the most sensible 
•inner, by at once depriving him of twenty 
boasund ponnds damages, and by chain- 
iig him again to a wife, whom Ue ab- 
Inrred. 
f The same post, which brought Vivian this 

E man's deposition and Ras^eU's letter, 
mgfat Mrs, Wliarton notice, that the 
olfe plan of collusion was discovered: she 
'as, iiiepefove, prepared for Vivian's re- 
laches, and received the first burst of his 
lonhhment and indignation with a stu- 
Magdaleii expression of countenance ; 
she atteinpte'd a silly apology, laying 
liie blame on her huiibatid, and vowing 
lat she iiad acted undur terrour, and that 
Iher life WQ«Id not have been safe in his 
Innds, if she had not implicitly obeyed and 
iexecttted his horrid plans. She wept and 
Reeled in vain. Finding Vivian immovable 
Sb bis purpose to return immediately to 
Gngland, she suddenly rose from her knees, 



I 



i 



-17« VIVIAK. 

and, all beautifiil as she was, looked is 
ViviRii's eyes like a fiend, whilst, with an 
nnnatural smile, she said to him : — 

" Yon see, fool as I am thought to be, I 
have been too clever for some people; and I 
ran tell Mr. Wharton, that I have been too 
clever for him, too. His heart is set upon x 
divorce i hot he can't have it. He can't 

marry miss P , or yet her fortune, nor 

ever shall! I shall remain at Brussels — 
I have friends here — and friends, who were 
my friends before I was forced to give my 
hand to Mr. Wharton, or my smiles to yon, 
sir ! — people who will not teaze me with 
talking of remorse and repentance, and such 
ungallant, nngentlcmanlike stuff; wot sit 
bewailing themselves, like a country parson, 
instead of dashing out with me here in a 
fashionable style, as a man of any spirit 
would have done. — But you ! — you're nei- 
ther good nor bad ; and no woman will ever 
love you, or ever did. Now you know my 
whole mind." 

" Would to Heaven I had known it 
sooner!" said Vivian. "No — I 
that I did not sooner know, and that I 



— I rejoicej 
that I ncvflkfl 



V 1 \ I A N. 



i7;i 



could have suspected such depravity ! 

under such a foriu, too ' " 

Mrs, Wharton's eye glanced, with satis- 
&cdon, upon the large mirronr oppo- 
site to her. Vivian left her in utter dis- 
gust and horrour. " Drive on!" cried he, 
as he threw himself into the chaise, that was 
to carry him away ; " Faster ! faster ! " 

The words, " And no woman will ever 
love yon, or ever did," rnng npon Vivian's 
ear. " There she is mistaken, thank Htii- 
Ten!" said he to himself: yet the words 
itill dwelt upon his mind, and gave him ex- 
quisite pain. Upon looking again at Rus- 
sell's letter, he observed, that Selina Sidney's 
name was never mentioned; that she was 
neither directly nor indirectly atlnded to in 
the whole letter. What omen to draw from 
this he could not divine. Again he read it ; 
and all that Russell said of public life, and 
luB exhortations to him to come and distin- 
^ish himself in public, and in the political 
■world, struck him in a new light. It 
seemed as if Russell ivas sensible, that there 
■were no farther hopes of Selina, and that, 
therefore, he tried to turn Vivian's mind 
irom love to ambition. Fourteen times he 



r 



174 VIVIAN, 

read oyer this letter, before he reachei 
England ; but he conld not discover firoin i 
any thing, as to the point on which hil 
heart was most interested. He reachei 
Lundoa in this uncertainty. 

" Put nie ont of suspense, niy besl 
firiendT' cried he, the moment he sai 
RuBsell — " Tell me, is Selina living?" 

" Yes — she has been very ill, bat is noi 
recovered — quite recovered, and with yen 
mother, who is grown fonder of her tba 
ever she waa." 

" Selina ailve! well! and with mr me 
ther ! — and may I — 1 don't mean may I 

mnv, bat may E ever hope ? Believe 

I feel myself capable of any exertions, anjt 
forbearance, to obtain her forgiveness — to 

merit May 1 ever hope for it 

Speak I " 

Rosisell assured him, that he need not 
dread miss Sidney's resentment, for thai 
she feh none ; she hiid expressed pity, mor^" 
than anger — that she had taken pains to 
Booth his mother; and had expressed sincerar' 
sati^action on hearing of his release from 
his unworthy bondage, and at his return 
home to his friends. '-" 




VIVIAN. 175 

The tone in wlu<--h Bossell spoke, antl tlie 
teriouguess and eiubarrussinrot of his man- 
ner, alarmed V'iviuit iuexpressiib])'. He 
stood silent, a»d dared iiot ask farther ex- 
plaoation, tor sonic niimitcs, — At length, 
iw broke silence; and conjured hU friend to 
(CO immediately to miss Sidney and Lts 
Biotlier, and to request permission for him 
lo see them both, in each other's presence. 
Russell said, that, if Vivian insisted, he 
■would comply with his request ; but that he 
advised him not to attempt to see miss Sid- 
ney at present ; not till he had been soma 
time in Loadon — till he had given some 
earnest of the steadiness of his conduct — - 
till be hud appeared again, and distinguished 

bimself in public life . 

" 'I'lm might raise you again in lier 
esteem ; and," continued Russell, " you 
must be aware, that her love depends on her 
esteem — at least, that the one cannot exist 
without the other." 

" Will you deliver a letter to her from 
me?" said Vivian. " If you think 1 bad 
better not attempt to see her yet, yon will 
deltrer a letter for me ? " 



S'Sf& VIVIAN. 

After some hesitation, or rather some de-^ 
litieration, Russell answered, in a con-- 
strained voice — . 

" I will deliver your letter, if you insist, 
upon It." 4 

Vivian wrote : — Russell undertook to de- 
liver the letter, though with evident reluc-^ 
tance. In the mean time, Vivian went to- 
see hi^ mother, whom he longed, yet dreaded 
to meet. Her manner was not now severoi 
and haughty, as when she last addressed 
him ; I'Ut mild and benign: she held oat 
her hand to him, and said — 

" Thank God ! my son is restored to me, 
and to himself!" « 

She could say no more ; but embraced! 
him tenderly. Russell had shown lady^ 
Mary, that her son had been the dupe of a 
preconcerted scheme to work upon his pas- 
sions. She deplored his weakness, but she 
had been touched by bis sufterings; and was 
persuaded, that his remorse would guard him 
against future errours. Therefore, not q.. 
vi'ord or look of reproach escaped from her; 
When he spoke of Selina, lady Mary, with 
great animation of countenance and warmth 



VIVIAN. 177 

of enloginin, declared, that it was the first 
wish of her heart to see her son married t<^ 
a woman of such a nahle character and an- 
gelic temper ; " but" added her ladyship,; 
her manner changing suddenly, as she pro- 

DDunced the word hut Before she could 

txplain the but, Russell came into the room, 
lad told Vivian, that niis» Sidney desired to 
see him. Vivian heard the words with joy ; 
but his joy was checked by the great gravity 
and embarrassment of his friend's counte- 
nance, and by a sigh of ill omen from hi^ 
mother. Eager to relieve Ins suspense, he 
bastened to Selina, who, as Kussell told 
him, was in lady M;iry's dressing-room — 
the room la which iie had first declared his 

passion for her. Hope and fear alteniate 

seized him — fear prevailed, the moment 
that he beheld Selina. Not that any strong 
displeasure appeared in her countenance — 
no — it was mild and placid; bnt it was 
changed towards hiui, and it's very serenity 
was alarming. Whilst she welcomed him 
to his native country and to his friends, and 
whilst she expressed hopes for his future 
happiness, all hope forsook him, and, in 
^genteuces, he attempted to stammc^ 



r 



4<J» VIVIAN. 

out some answer j then, throwing hnnsclP 
into a chair, he exclaimed, " I see all 
fhtore happiness is lost for me — and I de- 
serve it!" 

" Do not reproach yourself," said Selina, 
in a sweet voice; but the voice, thongh 
sweet, was so altered to him, that it threw 
hiui into despair. " It is my wish, not to 
inflict, hnt to spare you pain. I have, there- 
fore, desired to see yon, as soon as possible, 
that yon might not form false expecta- 
tions." 

" Then you no longer love me, Selina? 
Now, after all I have suffered, you have the 
cruelty to tel! me so? — And yon, who coold 
form my character to every thing, that i» 
good and honourable ; yoa, who alone could 

restore me to myself you reject, yoa cast 

me from yon for ever?" 

" I have- suffered much," said Selina, in 
a trembling voice, " since we parted," 

Vivian's eye quickly ran over her face 
and whole form, as she spoke these words f 
and he saw, indeed, traces of sickness and 
suffering: his idea of his power over he« 
affections, and his hopes, revived; he seized 
the feeble hand, which lay motionless ; bat 



VIVIAN- 179 

ibe withdrew it decidedly, and liis hopea 
again forsook him, when she gently raised 
her head, and continued to speak — 

" I have su&red inHfh, since we parted, 
Mr. Vivian; and I hope you will spare ine , 
annecessarv and useless puin in this iuter- 
view; paiiiliil, to a certain degree, it must be 
to both of us ; for 1 cannot, even now, that 
all feelings of passion have subsided, and that 
the possibility of my being united to yon ia 
past, teil yoQ so, with all the composure,whicli 
I had expected to do ; nor with all the finn- 
Bess <rf voire and manner, which is qeces- 
■»ry, perhaps, to convince you of the truth, 
and to restore your mind to- itself." 

" The possibiHty of my being nuited to. 
you is past! — Why?" interrupted Vivian, 
incapable ofunderstandingor listening to any 
thing else, till this qnestion was answered. 

" Do not force me to what may seeni like 
«mel reproach; but let it. suffice fcr me to 
say, that my sentiments have been so much 
altered, by a*/ear'a expedience, that it is im- 
poseible for me ever to liecoino your wife. 
My lore was fooBded on esteent. I had, 
indeed, always fears of the instability o€ 
jour character; therefore, I put youi' rflso- 



p 

180 VIVIAN, 

lution to the proof: the event has proved to 
me, that my fears were but too just. I speak 
with difficulty ; for I cannot easily give you 
so much pain, as 1 know that I am inflicting 
at this moment. Bat," resumed she, in a 
more resolute tone, " it is absolutely neces- 
sary for your ftiture peace of mind, as well as 
for my own^ that I should convince you I 
am sincere, perfectly sincere at this moment; 
that I know my own heart ; that my determina- 
tion has not been hastily formed, and cannot 
be altered. The deliberate manner, in which 
I iioTY speali to yoii, will, I hope, persuade 
you of this truth. And if I have hesitated, 
or showed any agitation in this interview, 
attribute it to it's real cause — the weakness of 
my health ; feebleness of body, not of mind." 
She rose to leave the room ; but Vivian 
detained her, beseeching her, with all the 
eloquence of passion in despair, to hear 
him but for one moment ; whilst he urged, 
that there was no prohability of his ever re- 
lapsing into errours, from which he had suf- 
fered so much; that now bis character waa 
farmed by adversity ; and that such was the 
power, which Selina possessed over his hearty, 
tijaj^a nftioa with her would, at this crisisa;. 



VIVIAN. 181 

-d«cii]c bis fate ; that her steadiness would 
'give stnbiHty to his resolutions; ani) that 
his gratitude would so increase his auc- 
tion, that he should have the strongest pos- 
sible motives to make her a good husband ; 
tliatj when he was happy in domestic life, 
he should feel every energy of his mind re- 
vive J that he should exert all his powers to i 
distinguish himself, and to justify the choice 
of the woman he adored. 

In spite of the word adored, which has ' 
nsaally such power to confound female 
judgment, Selina perceived, that all he said 
was merely a repetition of his former arini- 
ments; of which, experience had proved 
the insufficiency. She wa& aware, thai 
if, before marriage, his resolution and con- 
stancy had not been able to support the 
trial, that it would be folly or madness to 
marry him with the vague hope, that she 
might reform his character^ She, there- ] 
fore, continued steady to her resolution ; 
and, as she found that Vivian's disappoint- 
laent was greater than she had expected, 
she immediately withdrew from his mother's , 
house. The next mormng, when Vivian 
came to breakfast, after having spent a 



IW VIVIAN, 

sleepless night, planniog new arguments ov* 
new entreaties in favour of his love, b© 
found that his mistress was gon«. Hi»^ 
mother and his friend Rusaell joined int 
representing to him, that it would he use- 
less to follow her; that it would only give 
himself and Seiina unavailiDg pain. Vi-- 
viaa felt this stroke severely. His mind 
was, as it were, adrift again. After tlie 
first violence of his feeliags had spenf 
itself, and when he sunk into that kind of 
apathy, which is the consequence of ex- 
hausted passion, his friend Russell endea^ 
voured to excite him to honourable ambi^ 
tion. Vivian caught the idea, that, if be- 
distingsiahed himself in public life, and it 
he there displayed steadiness of character, 
he might win back Retina's esteem and af- 
fection. Fired with this h<^e, he iuimedi- 
ately tnrned his whole mind to tlie object;, 
applied with indefatigaljle ardour, day anil 
niglit, to nuike himself master of the sui> 
jccts likely to be discossed in tlie ensuing 
session of parliament. At length, his appli- 
cation and his energy were crowned with suc- 
cess. On a question of considerable politjca} 
importance, which he had carefully consi- 



VIVIAN. 183 

dered, he made an excellent speech ; a 
speech, which directly made him of conse> i 
quence in the house; which, in the lan- 
goage of the newspapers, " was received 
with nnbonnded applause, was distingiiisihed . 
Hot strei^th of argument, lucid order, and 
a happy choice of cxpressioa." But what 
encouraged onr hero more than newspaper ' 
polls or party panegyrics, was the appro- 
bation of his friend Knssell. Knssell never 
prmsed violently ; bnt a few words, or even 
a look of satisfaction from him went farther 
than the most exaggerated eulogiums from 
other?. Vivian pursued his coarse for some- 
time with honour and increasing reputation. 
There was oiie man, who nerer joined ia- 
aiiy of the compliments paid to the rising 
water; there was one man, who always- 
^H^e of him with contempt^ who pro* 
notmced, that " Vivian woald never go- 
far in politics — that it was not in him— 
that he was too soft — ([ue c'etoit batir sur 
de ta boue, qne de compter sur lui." Thi* 
depreckUor and enemy of Vivian's was the- 
man, who, but a few months before, had 
been his political proneur and unblushing 
flatterer, Mr, Wharton. Exasperated by the 



n mJ 



F 



IW VIVIAN, 

consciousness of his own detected Iiasenessjti 
and provoked, still more, by his being frus-^ 
trated in all bis* schemes, Wharton nonv) 
practised every art, that a iDaticious and un- 
principled wit conld devise, to lower thci 
opinion of Vivian's talents, and to prevenis 
his obtaining either power or celebrity, OuP^ 
hero was stimulated by this conduct to fresb I 
exertions. So far, Wharton's enmity wa34 
of sei-vice to him; bnt it was of dis8errice,J 
by changing, in some measarc, the purity^ 
of the motives from which he acted. With i 
love and honourable ambition now mixed" 
hatred, thoughts of vengeance, views crfj 
vulgar vanity, and interest; he thought ' 
more of contradicting Mr. Wharton's pro- 
phecies, than of fulfilling his own ideas of t 
what was fair and right. He was anxions ■ 
to prove, that he could " go Jar in politics^ 
that it was in him, that he was not too soft, 
and that it was not building on mud to de- 
pend on him." These indefinite expressions 
operated powerftilly and perniciously on his 
imagination. To prove that Wharton was 
mistaken in his prognostics, it was neces- 
sary to our hero to obtain the price and 
Btamp of talents — it was essential to gam 



political power; and this conld not be ai- i 
tained without joining a party. Vivian i 
joined the party then in epposilion. Whar- 
ton and he, though both in opposition, of 
course, after what had pa»5ed, could never I 
itieet in any private company ; nor had they 
any communicatlou in pubHc, though on 
the same side of the question : their enmity 
Was so great, that not only the hnsiness of 
the nation, but even the interests of their 
Jiarty, was often impeded by their cjuarrels. 
In the midst of these disputes, Vivian in- 
■«ensibly adopted more and more of the lan- 
guage and principles of tlie public men, 
with whom he daily associated. He begaa 
to hear and talk of compensations and jobs, 
a^ they did ; and to consider all measures, 
proved to be necessary for the sopport of 
hia party, as expedient, if not absolutely 
right. His country could not be saved, 
Doless he and his friends could obtain tlio 
management of affairs ; and no men, he 
found, coidd gain j>:irlianieDtary inftuencCj, 
or raise themselves into poUtical power, ' 
without acting as a Itodi/. Then, of course, 
all subordinate points of right were to be 
sacrificed to the great good of promoting 



i 



A 



196 VIVIAN, 

the views of tb« party. This argument, 
founded ob the necessity of acting in con- 
cert, was applied continuiilly; and Viviaot_ 
found, that it extended daily the bounds o£. 
his coQseience. Still, however, lus patriot- 
ism was, iu the main, pnre; he had no per- 
sonal views of interest, no desire even to be in 
)^ace, iade})endent uf a wi&h to promote 
tlie good of his country. Secret overture* 
were, about this time, made to him by 
government ; and in<juiries were made, i^ 
there was any thing, which could gratify 
him, or by which he coidd be induced to 
lay aside his opposition, aad to afsist in 
supporting their measures. Many compli- 
ments to his talents and eloquence, and all 
the usual commonplaces, about the expe~ 
diency and ]}i'0]»iriety of strengthening the 
hands nf government, were, of course, added* 
Something specific was, at length, men- 
tioned: it was intimated, that, as he wasot' 
an ancient family, it might gratify him, 
that his mother should be made a baroneia 
in her own right. The offer was declined^ 
and the temptation was firmly withstood by 
our hero ; his ciT;dit was now at it's anwi- 
widi his own coadjutors. Lady Mary wliis- 



VIVIAN. 187 

pered the circomstancc, as a state secrut, to 
all her acfpiaintance ; and Rassell took care, 
that miss Sidney shotilil heai" of it. 

A'ivian was now citMi as aa incorruptible 
patriot. Whartoo's malice, and eren his 
wit, was almost sileoced ; yet he was heard 
to gay, amidst the dia of applause — 

" This is only the first ofler, he is iu the 
r^ht to make a show of resistance: he will 
coquet for a time, and keep JUaiidering ou, 
till be suits himself, and then he'll jilt ns, 
yon'll see." 

. Sach speeches, thoagh they reached Vi- 
vtan*^s ear by the kind ofiidouanesa of 
friends, were never made by Mr. Wharton so 
directly, that he trould take hold of theio ; 
and Russell strenuously advised him not to 
seek occasion to quarrel with a man, wiia 
CTidently tlesircd only to raise his own re- 
pntatioii by making Vivian angry, getting 
liiui in the wrong, and forcing him into an 
imprudent duel, 

" Let yoar actions continue to contradict 
bis words,, and tliey can never injure yoo," 
Raid Russell. 

For some time, Vivian adhered to h« 
friend's advice ; and he proudly felt the su* 



I 



188 VIVIAN, 

periority of principle and character. But; 
alas ! there was one defence, that his patri- 
otism wanted — Economy. Whilst he wm 
thus active in the pnblic cause, and exult- 
ing in hh disinterestedness, his private af-" 
fairs were getting into terrible disorder.- 
The expense of building his castle had in- 
creased beyond all his calculations — the 
expense of his election — the money he had 
lost at play, whilst he was in Wharton's so- 
ciety — the Slims he had lent to Wharton — ^^ 
the money he had spent abroad : — all these, 
accumulated, hroaght him to great difficsl- 
ties ; for, though his estate was consider- 
able, yet it was so settled and tied up, that 
he could neither sell nor mortgage. Hi* 
creditors became clamorous — lie had no' 
means of satisfying or quieting them : — an 
execution was actually sent down to his- 
eastle,just as it was finished. Lady Maiy 
Vivian was in the greatest alarm and dis- 
tress : she had no means of extricating her 
son. As to his fashionable friends — no hopea 
from such extravagant and selfish beings. 
What was to be done ? At this critical mo- 
ment, the offers from a certain quarter were 
renewed in another, and, as it seemed, a more 



! 

VI VI A K. 18!) 

EcceptaWe form ; a pension was proffured, I 
instead of a title J and it was promised, that ' 
the business should be so managed, and the 
pension so held in another name, that no-^ 
thing of the transaction should transpire ; 
and that his seceding from opposition < 
should he made to appear a change of sen- 
timents from convictionj not from interested 
motives. Vivian's honourable feelings re- 
volted from these offers, and abhorred these 
subterfuges — but distress ! pecuniary dis- 
tress ! he had never before felt it's pressure ; 
he had never, till now, felt how powerfiil, 
how eompnlsatory it is, over even generous 
and high spirited souls. Whilst Vivian 
was thus oppressed with dithcnlties, which 
his imprudence had brought upon him; 
whilst his mind was struggling with oppos- 
ing motives, he was, most fortnnately for his 
political integrity, relieved, partly hy acci- 
dent, and partly by friendship. It hap- , 
pened, that the incunibentof the rich living, 
of which \'^ivian had the presentation, died 
just at this time ; and Russell, instead of 
claiming or accepting the living, which Vi- : 
vian had promised t> him, relinquished all 
pretensions to it ; and, absolntely refusing ta 



«t0 VIVIAN, 

accept of it, insisted upon liis friend's ra^ 
tiiining whatever advantage could piojjerly 
be derived from the right of presentation* 
The sum, which this enabled Vivian to raise, , 
was fully sufficient to satisfy the execution^, 
which had been laid on his castle ; and thai 
less clanjorons creditors were content to ha- 
paid fay instalmentsj annually, from his in- 
come. Thus he was saved for the present ; 
and he formed the most prudent resolves tor 
the future. He was most sincerely gratehil 
to his disinterested friend. The full extent 
of die sacrifice, which Russell made him, 
was not, however, knoivn at this time, nor 
for some years afterwards. 

But, without anticipation, let us proceed 
with our story. Amongst those fashionable 
and political friends, with whom our hero 
tiail, since Ins return to Enghmd, renewed 
his connexion, %va8 my lord Glistonbury. 
His lordship, far from thinking the worsa 
of lum fra- his affair with Mrs. Wharton, 
dpokc of it, in modish slang, as " a new and . 
fine feather in his cap ;" and he congratn- - 
lated Vivian upon his ha\'ing " carried off 
the prize without paying the price." Vivian's 
success, as a parliamentary orator, had still 



VIVIAN. 191 

irthcr endeared him to liis lordship, who 
iiuled not to repeat, that he had always pro- 
yhecied, Vivian would make a capital figure 
n pcblic lite; that Vivian was his iiiem- 
Jber, &c. At the recess, lord Glistonbury 
insisted upon carrying Vivi«n do\Tn to spend 
die Christinas hoUdays with him at Glisten- 
fcury Castle. 

*' You must come, Vivian ; so make your 
ifellow put your worldly goods into my ba- 
,ro«che, which is at tiie door — and we are 
ito have a great party !it Glistonbury — and 
tvrivate theatricals, and the devil knows 
mrhat ; aiid you must see my little Julia 
r«ct, and I must introduce yon to the Rosa- 
munda. Come, come I you can't refuse me ! 
—Why, yon have only a bachelor's castle 
of your own to go to; and that's a dismal 
*ort of business, compared with what I have 
in petto for you — ' The feast of reason, and 
the flow of soul ' in the first style, I assure 
yon — Ymi must know, I always — even in 
the midst of the wildest of my wild oats — 
had a taste for the belles lettres, and philo- 
sophy, and the muses, and the literati, and 
80 forth always a touch of the Mae- 
cenas about me — And now my boy 's 



39S VIVIAN. 

i^rowing up, it's more particalarly proper to 
bring these sort of people about him ; for, 
you know, cle^'er men, who have a rei>uta- 
tion, can sound a flourish of trumpets ad- 
vantageously before ' a Grecian youth oft 
talents rare' makes his appearance on the 
stage of the great world — Ha! hey! — Is < 
not this what one may, call prudence? — 
Ha! — Good to have a father, who knows 
something of life, and of books too, hey r- 

Then, for my daughters, too daughter*,' 

I mean ; for lady Sarah's lady Glistonbury's 
child", her ladyship and miss StrictlandJ 
have manfactured her after their own tastft 
and fashion; and I've nothing to say ta 

that — But my little Julia Ah, I'v* 

got a different sort of governess about hej^ 
these f»;w months past — not without f»J 
mily battles, you may guess. But when Jnd 
piter gives the nod, you know, even Janoj, 
stately as she is, must bend. — So I have 
my Kosamnnda for my little Julia — whoj 
by the hy, is no longer my little JuUa, but 
a prodigious fine woman, as you shall see* 
But, all this time, is your fellow putting 
your things up ? No ! — Hey ? how ? Ohj 
1 understand your long fiice of hesitation — 



VIVIAN. 



193 



Yon have not seen theJudies since llieWhar- 
toii afiitir, and you don't know how they might 
jtook — Never fear ! — lady Glistonhury shall 
•do as 1 pleaw, and loek as I please. Be- 
tides, efitre voiis, 1 know alie hate^^ tlitr 
Wliartons ; so that her morality ■vvill have 
eJoopliofc lr» cvecp out of; and you'll be 
fcafe and snag, whilst all the hlame will be 
tliTowH on them — Hey! — Oh. I under- 
stand things — piqne myself on investigat- 
ing the hnman heart. Come, we have not 
a moment to lose • — and yon'll have your 
friend Hussell, too' — Come, come! to have 

•aad to iioid, as ttie lawyei-s say ." 

Seizing Vivian's arm, lord Glistonbory 
tarried hiju off before h« had half nndci"- 
stood all iiis lai-dship had poured forth so 
Tapidjy j and before lie had decided whe- 
ther he wished or not to accept of this invi- 




19* 



CHAFIER VIII. 



On his way to Glistoiibury Castl^, Vivian 
lUad fiill leisure to repent of having accepted 
dfthis invitation, recoUecting, rs he did, all 
tlie former rejiorts ubout Liuiselt' and lady 
Sarah Lidhurst. He determined, therefore, 
ti^^t liiis visit should he as short as pos&ihle : 
and the chief pleasure lie promi-sed himself 
was the society of his friend Russell. 

On his iixrh'ul at the ensile, he whs told 
that Mr. Russuli was out, riding ; and that 
every body else was in the theatre, at a rc- 
hearaal, except l(0y Glistonhnry, tlie lady 
Sariih, and mi»js Strictland. He found &ese 
three Indies sitting in form in the great de- 
serted drawing-room, each looking like 
copy of the other; and all as if they were^ 
deploring the degeneracy of the times. Vi 
vian approached with due awe; but, to hiif 
great surprise and relief, at his approach^ 
their countenances exbibited some signs of' 
life and sati,-faction. Lord Glistonbury^rei 



B VIVIAN. ig.; 

him on his rt-tarn from abroad — 
listonljury's featares relaxed lo u 
smile, though she seemed immediately to 
rt-pent of it, and to feel it incumbent upon 
her to maintaiu her rigidity of mien. AVhilst 
<>bc, and of course miss Stiictland and the 
lady Sarah, were thus embarrassed bt't%recn 
the necessity of reprol»ating the sin, and the 
I dcsiru of pleasing the sinner, lord Gliston- 
1 trary ran tm with one ef liis spueches, of 
I borrofTcd f^enifc, and original non-seiise; and 
fc then would have carried him off to the re- 
^■hearsu], bnt lady GHstunliury called Vinan 
BtMurk, Ijegging, in her foimd manner, " that 
r her lari noald do her riie favour to leave 
Mr, Vivian ^vith her for a few minutes, as 
it was so long since she had liad the pleosnre 
of seeing him at GU^tonlmry." Vivian, re- 
tsmed M'ith as good a grace as lie could t 
and, to find means of hreaking the einbar 
rassing silence that ensued, took up a book, 
whicii lay upon the table, " Toplady's Ser- 
moas'" — no hope of assistance from that : 
he had recourse to another — equally un- 
lucky ! — " Wesley's Diary : " — another — 
" The Pilgrim's Progress." He went no 
farther ; bnt, looking np, he perceived, that 




tSa VIVIAN, 

the lady Samli was motimwd by lier angi 
mother to Iciive the room. Viwan bal 
BgJiiii recouTBe to "Teplady." 

" Very »□ fashionable books, Mr. Vivian,*' 
said miiss Strictland, bridling and smiling, 
as in scorn. 

" ^'^ery unfashionable books 1 " repeated 
lady Glistonbury, with the sanw inflection of 
voice, and the same bridling and smiling. 
*' Very different," continued her ladyship, ■ 
" very diftercnt from what yon have beeii'l 
acrnstomcd to see on same ladies' tables, niiM 
doubt, Mr. Vivian 1 Withont mentionin^l 
names, or alludmg to transactions, thd^ 
ought to be bulled In eternal oblivion, smS 
that are so very distressing to )'onr friends 
here to think of, sir, give mc leave to ask, 
Mr. Vivian, whether it be true, what I have 
heard, that the prosecution, and every thing 
relative to it, is entirely given up ? " 

" Entirely, madam." 

" Then," said lady Glistonbnry, glancing 
her eye at miss Strictland, "ive may welcome 
Mr. Vivian with safe consciences to Glis- 
tonbury; and, since the affair will never 
become jmblic, nnd since lady Sarah 
linmvB none of tlie improper particularsj ■ 



VIVIAN. 197 

■fedf since she niaV) ian\, from her education, 
■atarally will, class all such things imdcv the 
bead of inipussibiiitics and false reports, of 
irhich people, in onr rank of life especially; 
lare sniiject, every honr to hear so many, 
there cannot, ae I am persuoded you will 
agree with' nie in thinking, miss Strictland, 
be any impropriety in our and lady Sarah's 
receiving Mr. Vivian again on the same 
footing as formerly." 

Miss Strictland howed her formal assent 
— ^'^ivian howed, hecanse he saw that a bow 
was expected from him; and then he pon- 
dered on what might be meant by the words' 
■On the same footing as- fot^merlif ; and he 
i^ad jast framed a clause explanatory an^ 
restrictive of the snme, when he was inter- 
rnpted hy the sound of laughter, and of 
jinmerous, loud, and mingled Toites, com-, 
ihg along the gallery that led to the draw- 
ing-room. As if these were signals fur her 
departure, and'as if she dreaded the intm- 
fiion and contamination of the rcvel-ront, 
J»dy Glistoubury arose, looked at her watch, 
Jjronounced her belief, that it was full time- 
for her to go to dress, and retired through a 
j^etian door, followed by miss Strictland. 



! 

] 



r 



t9t VIVIAN, 

repeating the same belief, and bearing bef^ 
ladyship's tapestry work : her steps quick? 
ened as the door at the opposite end of the 
room opened; and cnrtsying — an unneces- 
sary apology to Mr. Vivian — as she passedj 
she leit him to himself. And noir, ' 

" He sees a train profusely gay 
Come pranckling o'ar the place." 

Some were dressed for comic, some for tra- 
gic characters ; but all seemed equally gay, 
and talked etjiuilly fast. There had I'crn a 
drt:ssed reliearsal of " The Fair Pt-iiittut,'* 
and of "The Romp;" and all the specta- 
tors and all tlie actors nere giving and re* 
ceiving' exuberant compliments. Vivian 
knew many of the party — some of them bel- 
esprits, some fashionable iunateurs ; all 
pretenders to notoriety, either as judges or 
performers. In the midst of this inotkyt 
group, there was one figure, who stood re-; 
ceiving and e.xpecting niuversal homage;, 
she was dressed as " The Fair Peni- 
tent;" but her aflected vivaeity of gesture. 
and countenance was in striking contrast 
to her tragic attire. And Vivian could 
hardly, forbear smiling at the minaKrfwTg* 



k 



.b; 



VIVIAN. 199 

with wliich she listened and talked to tlio 
geatlemen roaad her ; now langnishiiig, 
now coqneHiog ; rolling her eyes, and 
throwing herself into a saciesaion of stadietl 
attitude?, ciealinij leyiartees to this sitle and 
to that i and, in shui-t, uinking the gi'eiitest 
possible exhibition both of her person and 
her mind. 

" Uont you know her? Did you never 
see her before ? — No ! you've been out of 
England; but you've heard of her, cer- 
tainly ? — Rosanmnda" whispered lord Glis- 
tonbury to Vivian. 

*' And who is Rosamnnda ? " said Vivian ,- 
•* an actress ? " 

" Actres? ! — Hush \ — Bless tou ! no — but 
the famous poetess. Is it possible that you 
lavVt read the poems of Rosanmmla ? — 
They were in every hody's hands :i few 
months ;igo, but vou were ahroad — Dctter 
'engaged, or as well, hey? But, ;is \ was 
gmng to tell you, tliat's the reason she's 
called The Rosamnnda — I gave her the 
name, for I patronisbd her from the first — ' 
her real name is Batcman — and lady Glis- 
tonhury and her set call her miss Batemau 
ttill, but nobody eke — She's an amazing 



cfever ^vpman, I assure you — mare gcnm* 
than any of 'ein, snicc the time of Rousseau ! 
— Devil of a Siilary ! — and devil of a battle 
1 bad to fight with some of my friend* 
before I could fix herLcre — Biit,I was deter- 
mined I would follow my own ideas in Jii- 
liji's education — Lady Glistonbnry had her 
way, and her routine with lady Sarah i and. 
it's all very weH, vastly well — • 

" Virtue for her loo painful an emlenvour, 
Contenl to dwelt in decencies Tor ever." 

You know the sort of thing ? Yes, yes — : 
Ijut I was not coutent to Lave my Julia lest 
among the mediocres, as 1 call them — so I 
took her out of miss Strictland's hauds ; mid 
the Rosamnnda's her governess." 

'• Her governess ! " rcjieatcd Vivian, with 
uncontrollable astonishment; '-'lady Julia 
LidlArsfs governess V , 

" Yes, you may well be surprised !" pursue^ 
lord Glistonbury, mistaking the cause of the 
surprise — " No oue in England could huvQ 
done it but myself — she refused ionnmerahle 
a}ip]ications, immense ofl'ers ; and after allj 
you know, she does not appear asgovernes* 
titric — only as a friend of the family, vha 




VIVIAN. 20i'-J 

dii*ects lady Julia Lidhurst's literary talents^ 
Oh T you understaud, a man of the world- 
kiion's liow to manage these things ■ — sacriw 
fices always to the vanity of the scr,. or Hux 
pride, as the case may he. I ueyer niind 
names, bat things, as the metaphvsicianv 
aay — distinguish betwixt essentials and' 
accidents — Sound pbiiosopliy, that I hey it 
And, thank Heaven! a: gentleman or a no- 
bleman' need not apologize, in these days^ 
for talking of philosophy before ladies —> 
even if anybody overheard us, which, us it 
happens, 1 believe nobody does. So- let. me, 
now that yow know youv Paris^ introduce 

you to "The Rosamunda." Mr..Vivia(t 

■ — the Rosamunda. Rosaiunndu — Mr;. 

Vivian ." 

After Vivian had for a.few minutes acted' 
andience, very little to his own satisfactionj 
lie was reliewd by lord Glistonbury'a ex- 
dainiing — 

"But Julia! Where's Julia^ - all' this 
time?" 

Rosamunda looked round, with the air of 

one' intermjited by. a irivolous tjuestiony. 

which rerjuires no answer ; hot some one;^-' 

less exalted, and more attentive to the com: 

K 5 



m^m- 



nion foiins uf civility, told his lordship, 
that lady Julia was walking in tlie gallery 
with her brother. Lord Glistonbnry har- 
ried Vivian into the gallery. Vivian waa 
strock, the moment he met lady Julia, with 
the great change and improvenient in her 
appearance. Instead of the childish girl 
he had formerly seen "flying abont, fiill only 
ef the frolic of the present moment, he now 
saw a fine graceful woman, with a striking 
eonntenance, that indicated both genius, and 
sensibility. She was talking to her brothep 
with so much eagemesi, that she did not 
i^ee Vivian come into the gallery; and, as he 
walked on towards. tlie farther end, where 
she was standing, he had time to admire her. 

" A fine girl, faith ! though sii« b my 
daughter," whispered lord Glistonhury, "and 
would you beKeve tbat she is only sixteen ■ " 

" Only sixteen ! " 

" Ay : and stay, till you talk to her — ■ 
tay lUl you hear har~you will he more 
surprised. Such genius ! such eloquence I 
She's my own giri. — — Well Julia, my 
darling ! " cried he, raising his Toice, '* iik 
:the clouds, as usuat } " 

Lady JoHa tiiarted — but it was a natarali 



not a theatric start — colouring at the cotf- 
scioosness of faer o^m absence of mind.;. 
She came fonvard witli a maiinep, tliat apo-^ 
l^ized better than words could do, and she 
received Mr, Vivian so courteonsly, and with 
bixch ingenuous pleasure in her connteiirtnce, 
that he began to rejoice in having accepted 
the invitation to GHstoabnrj- : at the same 
iustant, he recollected a look which his 
mother had given hini be&)rc, when he finst 
saw lady Julia^ on the terrace of the castle. 

" Well, what was she saying to you. Lid*, 
hnrst ? hey t my boy f "^ 

" We were arguing, sir," . 

" Arguing ! Ay, ay, she's the devil for ' 
that ! — word* at will.! — ' Pejsuasive wordsy 
and more pcrsnasive sighs!' Ab, wtHiuinl 
woainn. for ever I always talking ns out of 
our senses I' and which of the best of us 
would not wish it to-be so? — *Oh! let me^ 
let me hs deceived! ' is the cream of phUo- 
sojiby, Epicoreun and Stoic, at least that's 
my creed. But, to the point ! What was it 
about that she was holding forth so chana« 
togly ? a book, or a lover? — -A book. Fit 
Kager ; she's such a romantic little fool, and 
90 unlike other womcu: leaves all her ad^ 



1^204 VIVIAN. 

mirers there in the drawiog-rooni, aud stays 
put liere, talking over musty books with her 
brother. But come, what was the point : 
I will have it argiied again before me. — 
Jjct's see the book." 

Lord Lidhurst pointed out a speech in 
•' The Fair Penitent," and said, that they had 
Jieen debating about the manner in which it- 
should be recited. Lord Glistonbury called"* 
iipon his daughter to repeat it ; she showed' 
a slight degree ot" unaffected timidity at first; 
hut when her father stamped, and bid her 
let him see no ^'ulgar bashfulness, sht ■ 
.^obeyed — recited, charmingly — and, wheu- 
" aiged by a little, oppoj-itiou from her bro- 
ther, grew warut in defeiu-e of her own 
opinion — ■ displayed in it's support such 
eeneibility, > with; such a flow of elo* 
quence, aecompanied with such ajiimated 
find graceful, yet natural gesture, that 
Vivian w;i9 transported with sudden admi- 
ration. He was astonished at this early de- 
Telopment of feeling and intellect ; and if,, 
in the midst of bis delight, he felt soma 
latent disapprobation of this display of ta- 
lent, from so young a woman, yet he qiiickl j 
justified her to himself by saying, that he 



UBis not a straoger ; tha,t lie had fonnerljn 
been received by her family on a footing of 
mtimacy. Then he observed farther, in her 
vindication^ that there was not die slightesft 
afiectation or cotjnetry in any of her \vord9 
or motions ; that she spoke with this eager- 
Dess, not to gaiiL admiration, bnt because . 
she veaa caaried away by Iier eiithnsiasiii^ 
and, thoughtless of herself, was eager only 
to persuade, and to lUitke her opinions pre- 
vail. Such wasr the enchantment ot" her 
eloquence anil her beimty, that, after a^ 
tjuarter of an hour spent iu her company^, 
enr hero did not know whether to wish, that' 
she had nioi-e sedateuess and reserve, or 
to rejoice, tlmt she was so animated and na^ 
taral. Before he coiild decide this pointj. 
his friend- Russell! returned from riding.. 
After the first greetings- «cre over, Rusself 
drew him a^ide, and asketl ~ : 

" Pray, my dear. Vivian, what brings yoa. 
here ? " ' 

"Lord Glistonburyi — to whom I had not" 
time to say no ; he talked so fast. But| 
after all, why should I say no ? I am a frea 
man — a discarded lover. 1 am. absolutely 



SOe VIVIAN, 

convinced, that Selina Sidney's refusal wiH 
»ever be retracted ; my mother, I know, is 
«f that opiniou. You snggested, that, if f 
distinguished myself in- pnblic Hfe, amd 
showed steadiness, I might recover her 
esteem and. affection ; bnt I ste no chanc& 
•f it- My mother showed me her last lettep- 
— no hopes from that — so I think it would 
be niadnesB, or folly, tcwRate my time, and 
wear out my feelings, i» pursuit of a woman ,. 
who, however amiuhle, is lost to me." 

" Of that you- are tlu; best judge," sai<f 
Basseli, grait"ly'. " t am tar from wisliing — 
from urgir^ you to. waste yoar time. Lady 
Blary Vivian must know more of luis* Sid- 
ney, and he better able to judge of the atat«^ 
^miss Sidney's heast, tJian I ciuv be. It 
irould not lie the part of a friend to excite 
Jottto pcssevere ia a pursnity that woiild end' 
in disappointment*; but this mnch, bafore- 
m quit the siibjcctfor ©vei-, I feel it my duty 
to say — that 1 think miss Sidney, the 
' voman, o^' all otliei-'s, the best suited tO' 
youi chai-acter, the most deserving of yoojj 
kve, tho moat calculated to make yoaex- 
^tiisitttly and. pormaueutly happyJ' 



n 



VIVIAN. 207 

" All tbat^s very trae," said Vivian, 'an* 
patiently ; " but, sinee I can't have hei^ 
why make nto miserable about her } " 

" Am 1 to Doderstiuid," resumed Russell^ 
after a loog paase, " am I to understand,. 
that, now you have regained your freedom, 
yoB come here with the settled purpose of 
espousing the lady Sarah Lidhm-st r " 

" H«aveu. forefentl ! " cried Vivian, start- 
iog back. 

" Then I ani to go over again, on thtr 
subject, with indefatigable patience, and 14 
due logical oi-der, alt the arguments, moral, 
prudentiaii, and conventional, which I hoA 
the labour of laying before yon about a. 
twelyemonth ago ? " ' 

" Save yourself the ti-ouble, my dea? t 
friend ! " said Vivian ; " 1 shall set all that 
■poa a right footing immediately, by a[>eak- 
ing of the report at once to some of the fa- 
mily. I was going to rise to explain thi* 
notning, when 1 was with lady Gliston* 
Vury ; hut I fell a sort of delicacy — it was 
aa awkward time- — and, at thatmoment^. 
soB^ebody came into, the room."' 

" Ay," said Russell, " yoa are jast tiker 
the hera of a novel, stopped from sayii^ 



S09 VIVIAN, 

what he onght to say, hy somebody's commg 
into the room; — Awkward time! — Take 
care yo« lion't sacrifice yonrself, at lastj 
tb these aw/tivardnesjies Kod these sort of 
delicacies. — Ihave still ray fears, that you 
will get into diftictilties' about lady Sai-ah." 

Vivian eunld' not help laughing at wha^ 
he called his friend's absurd fears. 

" If you are determined, my dear Russell^ 
at all events, to fear forme, I'll suggest to 
you a more reasonable cause of dread; Sup- 
pose I should fall desperately iii. love with 
lady Julia '. 1 assure you there's some dangev 
of that. She is reidly very handsome and' 
very graceful ; uncommonly clever and elo^ 
quent — as to the rest, you, know her — 
what is she?"' 

" All that you have said, and more. She- 
ha3 more genius and more sensibility, than 
I have ever before' seen-in: a girl of her age.. 
She might be made aiiy thing — every 
thing ; an ornament to her sex — an honour 
to her country — wei'e she under tlie guid- 
ance of persons fit to -direct great powers 
and a noble character ; but I dare not pre- 
dict what may become of her, nndcr the,nris- 
mamtgcraent of those, to whom she js:at 



E_L_ 



VIVIAN. n)9 ; 

prcseat abandnoed. With the education she . 
has undergone, and that to which sho i» 
now exposed, one having controlled her in i 
every, even the uiost innocent, thought and 
action ; the other suddenly setting her free 
from all restraints, even from those the nio»t \ 
rational and aecessiiry to her sex and to ^ 
society. I say she ntnat be something niOre 
tliiin female, more than human, to be safe* 
No man of prudence would ventnrc to iu- 
9ure a. woman running such risks. Ahnosb 
in proportion to h«r abilities is Iier peril^, 
because in the same proportion is her confi- ■ 
dence in herself. I admire lady Julia's ta- 
lents more than you do, because I know 
them better; aud, farther still, her amiable 
disposition) her precarious situiition, he» 
youth, her innoceuce and Inexperience, liavo' 
altogether strongly interested me iu her' 
fete; and yet I cannot, Vivian, as your 
friend, recommend her to you as a wife." 
, " I am not thinliiug of her as a M'ife," 
said Viviaa : " I have not had time to think 
of her at all, yet. But you said, just now^i | 
that, in good hands, she might be mado 
every tltingj that is good and fjreat. Why , 



I am VIVIAN. 

' not by n hasham\, instead of a govemesfti 
I and would not >-ou caJI mme good hands?" 
I " Good, bnt not steady — not at all the 

I husband fit to {^uide such a wcunun. He 
must be a man not only of superior sense, 
, but of sujierior strength of mind," 

Vivian was piqiied by this rccuirk, nn<l 

I proceeded to compare the fitness of his rlia- 

I racter to stick a character as lady JnUa's. 

I Every moment he showed more cnriosity to 

i bear farther paitit-alars of her disposition ^ 

of the different characters of her governesses, 

I and of all her relations ; but Kussell rt^t^sed 

to say more. He had told him what he was 

; called upon, as his friend, to reveal ; he left 

the rest to Vivian's own observation and 

judgment. Vivian set himself to work t* 

observe and judge, with all his might, 

He soon perceived, that all Russell hatf 
told him of the mismanagement of lady 
Julia's education was true. In this hooso 
there were two parties^ each in extremes,, 
and each with their systems and practice 
carried to. the utmost excess. 'I'be par- 
tisans of the old and the new school wer» 
hereto be seen at daggersdrawing. 



- I-^l 



VIVIAN. an 

Glistonbiiry, atiltorreat of what she termed 
modem philosophy, aad classing under that 
name aUnost all sfience and literature, ee- 
jjeciully all attempts to cultivate the under- 
slaiidiug of woeieu, hitd, with the assist- 
ance of her double, miss Strictland, brought 
np lady Sarah m all the iguorauee, and all 
tJie rigidity of tlie most obsolete of the old 
SL'hool: she had made lady Sarah pi-eeisely 
lilie Iterself; with virtue, stiflj dogmatical, 
and repulsive; with religion, gloomy and 
puritanical; with manners, cold and auto- 
matic. In the course of eighteen years^ 
whilst lady GliatoDbury went od, like clock- 
work, the same round, punctual to the 
letter, but unfeeliog of the spuit of her 
daties, she contrived, even by the «-earisome 
method of her minuted diary of education, 
to make her hou&e odious to her husband. 
Some task, or master, or hoiir of Icssou, 
coutinnidly, and imniitigably ]>lagu«;d him: 
he went abroad for aiuusement, and found 
dis!iipation. Thus, by licr unaccommodating- 
temper, and the obstinacy of her manifold 
■rirtacs, she succeeded in alienating the af- 
fections of her husband. In despair, be one- 
day exclaiilied — 



J 



*I« VIVTAN. 

" Ah ijae de Tcrtus vous me failea hair, 
and, repelled by virtee in this imgraciouB 
form, he flew to more attractive vice. Find- 
ing that he conld not baA-e any comfort or 
solace in the society of his wife, he sought 
consolation in the company €>f a miatreas.. 
Lady Glistonbnry had, hi the meantime^ 
Ber consolation in being a pattern wife ; an# 
in hearing, that, at card tables, it was nni— 
Tcrsally said, that lord filistonbiiry vnis the- 
worst of basbands, and that her lad^shij»* 
was extremely to be pitied'. In process o^ 
time, lord Glistonbnry was driven to bis home 
again, by the united toiinents of a virago mis- 
tress and the gont. It was at this period, that 
he formed the notion of being at once a politi- 
cal leader and a Marcenas ; and it wag at this- 
period, that he became acqnainted with lloth" 
his daughter!-, and determined, that his Jnliv 
should never resemble the lady Sarah. He- 
saw his own genius in Julia; ami he re-J 
solved, as ho said, to give her fair play, anrf 
to make her one of the wonders of the age;- 
After some months' counteraction and al- 
tercation, lord Glistonbnry, with a high* 
hand, took his daugliter from under the* 
control of miss Strictland ; aiHl, in- fpite oft 



r fpite OR 



TIVTAN. 213 

stfl the representations, pro]jlie(;ies, and de- 
nimciatioiis of her mother, consigned Julia 
4o the care of a ^veniess aftt-r his own 
heart — a miss Batemani or, as he called 
ier, The Rosamunda . From the Bioiiicnt 
this lady was introduced into the family, 
there was an irreconcileahle breach between 
the. husband and -wife. Lady Glistonbury 
was perfectly in the right in ber dread of snch 
a governess as miss Batcnian for her daugh- 
ter; but she did not take the means to pre- 
vent the evil: liei- remonstrances were too 
acrimonious; l>er objections too abscdute; 
she made no distinction between the use 
and alwse of reason and literature. Her 
ladyship was only pirtially and accidentally 
right ; right in point of fact, bat wrong iii 
die general principle ; for she objected to miss 
Batenian, as being of the class of literary 
iromen ; to her real faults, her inordinate lov? 
ofadmiration and romantic imprudence, lady 
Glistonbury did not object, because she did 
not at first know them; and, when she dld^ 
she considered them but as necessary conse-* 
qneof es of the cultivation and enlargement 
nf miss Bafeman's vnderstanding. " No 
wonderl" her ladyship would say; " i knew 



tU VIVIAN. 

it siQstljc so; I knew it could iiot be otlier- 
wise. AH those clcTcr women, as they are 
called, are the same. This comes of litera- 
ture and of literary ladies." 

Thus uioriilizing in private with miss 
Strictland and her own sniiill party, lady 
Clistonbury appeared sileut and passive be- 
fore her husband and his adherents. After 
prophesying how it all must end in the ruin 
of her daughter Julia, site declared, that 
she would never S]>eak on this subject again : 
she showed herself ready, witli nuitemal re- 
signation, and in silent obduracy, to wit- 
ness the completion of the sacrifice of her 
devoted child. 

Lord Clistonbury was cjuite satisfled widi 
having silenced opposition. His new go- 
verness, cstablifhed in her office, and with 
ftill and unlimited powers, went on trium- 
phant and careless of her charge: she 
thought of little but displaying her own 
talents in company. The castle was con- 
letiuently filled with crowds of aiuatenrs; 
novels and plays were the order of the day: 
and a theatre was titted up, (all in ojien de- 
fiance of poor lady Clistonbury.) The 
daughter ctjuiinenced her new course of 



VIVIAN. 215 

B^Bcatiou by being taught to laiigb at h«af 
.soother's prejudices. Such was the state of 
kflkirs, when Vivian coiunienced his obser- 
vations; and all this secret history he learnt 
ly scraps, xad hints, and iunendocs, from 
■Kfy particnlar fi-iends of both parties — 
Htrieuds, who were not troul)led with any of 
■Mr. Russell's scruples or discretion. 

Viviiui's attention was now fixed iipoo 
lady Julia: he observed, with satisfaction, 
that, notwithstanding her governess's ex- 
ample and excitement, lady JuHa did not 
^ow any exorbitant desire for geueral ad- 
miration ; and that her manners were free 
from coquetry and affectation : she seemed 
rather to disdain the flattery, and to a-\'oid both 
the homage and the company of men, who 
were her inferiors in mental qualiticatians ; 
«he addrestied her conversation principally to 
Vivian and his friend Russell ; with them, 
Hideed, she cooverscd a great deal, with 
much eagerness and enthusiasm, expressing 
I -all her opinions without disguise, and 
showing, on most occasions, more imagl- 
natioo than reason, and more feeling than 
judgment. Vivian perceived, that it was 
Boon suspected, by many of their observers. 



f 



fits VIVIAN. 

and especially hy lady Glistohbury and t^ 
lady Sunih, that Julm l^d a design upon bij 
Iteart; but he plainly discerned, that she hi 
no desig;n whatever to captivate him; and 
that though she gave him so large a sha^ 
■of hw couipanv, it was ivitliout thinking qi 
him as a lover ; he saw that she conversed 
ivith him and Mr, Russell, preferably t£ 
others, because they spoke on subjectsj 
which interested lier more; and becaust 
they drew out her brother, of v\hoiii shft 
was very fond. Her beit^ capable, at so^ 
early an age, to appreciate Russell's cha* 
racter and talents; her preferring his solid 
sense and his plain sincerity to the hrilliV 
ancy, the J'ax/uon, and even the gallantry of 
■all the men, whom her father bad now col*- 
iected round her ; appeared to A'^ivian the; 
most unequivocal proof of the snperiority: 
of her understanding, and of the goodness 
of her disposition. On various occasion^ 
he marked with delight the deference she 
paid to his friend's opinion, and the readi<- 
ness with which she listened to reason from 
him — albeit, unused and averse from reason 
in general. Impatient as she was of con- 
trol, and confident, both iii her own powers 




VIVIAN. 217 

d io lier in^^tinctive, moral sense, 
lout which, by the hy, she talked a greiit 
deal of eloquent nonsense,) yet a word or 
11 look from Mr. Kusscll wonld reclaiin her 
in her highest flifjhts. . Soon after Vivian 
couimcnted his observations njjon this in- 
teresting subject, -he saw an instance of 
what Hussell had told iiim of the ease, with 
which lady Julia mifiht be e^dwt bv ii man 
of feease and strength of inind. 

The tragedy of " Tlie Fair Penitent," 
CaUsta !>y miss Bateiuan, was represented, 
with vast applanso, to a brilHaHt audience 
At the GlistonSuiT theatre. The same play 
was to be reacted a week afterwards, to a 
fresh audience — it -was proposed, that Vi- 
vian shoultl play Lothario, ami that lady 
Jalia should phiy Ciiiista: miss Bateman ' 
saw no objection to this proposal : lord 
Giistonbury niig}it, perhajis, have had the 
parental prudence to object to his daughter's 
appearing in public, at lier age, in such a 
tliaracter, before a mixed audience ; but, 
unfortunately, lady Glistonliury, bursting 
troQi her silence at this critical moment, 
said so much, and in such a prosing and , 
puritanical manner, not only againat her 



r 



^f$- VIVIAN, 

daijgbtcr's acting in this play, and in these 
circumstances, hut against all stage pUtySy 
jilay Wrights, actors, and actresses what- 
soever, denouncing and anatliematising them 
idl indiscriminately; that immediately, lord 
ClistoiilMiry laughed — miss Bateman toc^ 
ftre — and it became a trial of power between 
the contending piirties. Lady Julia, who 
had but lately e9caj>eti from the irksomeness 
of her mother's injndicions and minute con- 
trol, dreaded, aboA-c all things, to be again 
subjectie<l to her and miss Strictlnnd ; there- 
fore, without considering the real propriety 
or iiBpi:«i)rIety of the point in question, 
witbant esiwniniug whether miss Bateman 
was rig^t 6r wrong in tiie license she bad 
graiited, ludy Julia supported lier opinion 
warmly; and, with all her eloijnence, at 
oitce asserted her own lilxTty, and defended 
the cause of the theatre in general. — She 
had heard Mr. Russell once speak of th«' 
utility of a well regulated pul)lic stage; of" 

■ the influence of good theatric represent 
I tioDS ia fbriQtug tbe taste and rousing t) 
I suul to virtue : Ike had shown her MarnHMtU 

■ tel's celebrated letter to Roussean on thi# 



r ■ 

viviAS. «ig 

knew irhat bis ffjnnioii most he on tlic pre- 
sent occasion t therefore, she spoke wrib 
more than her tisiial cmifidence Mid «nthii- 
siasm. Her elwpience and her ahilities 
tianaported her tathiT, and iDost of her xa- 
Virian buioq^ the rest, with asto- 
BhtneDt ind s^mration: !»he enjuvf>d, »t 
ka iDomoiit, what the French call v» pond 
Ucces; but, ID the mid'A of the buzz of <ip- 

luse, Vivian obsenrcd, thai her eye turned 

sionsly wpaa Rub*-)!, who stood silent, 
v^ with a disapproving coimtenimde. 

'* I aisi swc yow friend, Mr. RuMell, is 
displeased at this instant — nod irith mc— I 
nust know why. — Let ii!j ask him, — Do 
biag him here." 

Immediately she discnga^d herself from 
tH. faer admirers, and, ittakiii^ room tar 
Mr. Rassell beside her, waited, as she said, 
to hear &oia him ses verlth. RiiSBelt 
would have declined speaking, but her lady- 
ship appealed earnestly and urgently for 
hia opteion, sayii^, " Who wDl speiik the 
Isuth to mc, if yo« will not? On whose 
jadgment can I rely, if mit on yours ?r— You 
^rect my brother's mind to every thing that 
IB wise aud good; directniine: I am as desi- 



r 



L 



rous to do right as he can "be ; and yoii •wiH 
find Jiie — selt-willed and volatile, as I know 
^n tliiuk me — you ivill find me a docile 
pupil. — Then tell me frankly — Dkl I, just 
now, speak too much, or too warmly? I 
thought I ivas speaking your sentiments, 
and that I jnust he riglit. — But perhaps it 
was not right for a woman, or so young a 
woman, as I am, to supj>ort even just, opi- 
nions so resolutely. — And yet, is it a crime 
to he young? — And is the honour of maia- 
laining truth to he monopolised by age ? — 
No, surely I — for Mr. Kussell himself lias 
not that claim to stand forth, as he so-often 
•does, in it's defence. — And is it unhecoming 
for a woman to do that, which is in itself 
excellent and hononrahle? Oh, y«s! I an- 
ticipate your answer; you like retiring, 
rather than iotrepid sense in our aex.-'— I 
recollect the line yon once qnoted: 

• There is no woman, where tbere'a no reseire* 

How I wish that I liad those reserved mtmners^t 
of which yon approve! — If you think, tfaatf 
I ought not to act Calieta ; if yon think, tfaaCi 
I had better not appear on the stage at all^ 
«nly say so! — ^All I ask is your opinion; thi 



a<{vaiitage of your judgment — And you see, 
Mr. Vivian, how difficult it is to obtain 

it! But his friend, probably, never ftlt 

tins difficnlty' " 

Widi a degree of sober composure, winch 
almost provoked Vivian, Mr. Russeil an- 
iwered this animated lady. And with a^ 
iincerity, which, though politely showD,. 
Vivian thougbt severe and almost cmel,. 
RusseU acknowledged, that her ladyship- 
bad anticipated some, but not all of his ob- 
jections. He represented, that she had failed 
Sn becoming respect to her mother, in thtis 
fjublicly attacking and opposing- her- Wpi-- 
"iions, even supposing them to be ill fonnded 
— He d^lared, that, as to the case in dis- 
cussion, he was entirely of lady Gliston- 
'bury's opinion, that it would be unfit. and 
injurious to a young lady to exhibit herself, 
even on a private stage, in the character in 
which it had been proposed that lady Julia 
should apjicar. He explained, with as 
^uch delicacy as he could, the censures 
Tchich a young woman might incur, and the 
"dangerB to which private theatricals may 
'lead, where the company is so little select 



aoe vlvian. 

«s it was at this tizoe at the Glistontnir^ 

WliilstRuseellspokt', Vivian wjischarmad 
with tile manner in which lady Jnlia lis- 
tened : he thought her conntcnance en- 
ehantingly hcautiful, alternately eoCtened an 
it wa« by the expression of gemiine humility, 
itnd rsdifliit with cnndonr and gratitude. Site 
«mhK' uo reply ; hut immediately went to her 
ino'hcr, and, in the inoRt engaging manner, 
*;kiunvledged,thatshehadbecn wrong; and 
iMuluretl, that she was convinced it would be 
improper for her to act the charafter she had 
proposed. Witli that cold haughtiness of 
ittien, the most repulsive to a warm and ge- 
neiim* niindi the mother turned to her ' 
daughter, an<l said, tliat, " For her part, sll0 
bad no faith in sudden conversions, and' 
(rtarts of good conduct made little impre»- 
eion npon her ; that, as far as ahe ^'as hep- 
self concerned, she forgave, as in charity it 
became her, all tlienndutifnl ineolence, with 
which she had been treated; that, aa to 
the rest, she was glad to find, for lady 
Julia's own sake, that she bad given up her 
otrange, and, as she must say, SfondaloHS 



m 



VIVIAN. sail 

intendoas. However," added ludy GliEtoD- 
bury, " I am not fo sanguine, as to consider 
tbU as any thing but a respite from ruin ; 
lam Dot so credalons, iui to l}elieve in sudden 
leformattons ; nor — despicable as yon And 
my loi'd do me the hononr to think my an;- 
derstanding — am I to be made the dnpe of 
1 little, deceitful fondling: I " 

Julia withdrew her arms, which she had 
thrown round her mother ; and miss Strict^ 
land, after breaking her netting silk with a 
Jerk of indignation, observed, that, " for her 
part, she wondered young ladies should go 
to coQstilt their brother's tutor, instead of 
more snitable, and, perhaps, as competent 
advisers." Lady Jul ia, now indignaot, 
turned away, and was withdrawing fi-om 
before the triumvirate, wlien lady Sarah, 
■who had sat, looking even more stiff and 
constrained than uenid, suddenly broke 
from her stony state, and, springing for- 
ward, exclaimed, " Stsiy, Julia ! — Stay, my 
dear sister ! — Oh, miss Strictland ! do my 
iister justice 1 — When Julia is so candid, 
so eager to do right, intercede for her with 
my mother ' " — 

'^'^rst, may I presume to ask"- — said 



f 



^m VIVIAN. 

miss StrictlancI, drawing herself np with 
starcli malice — "First, may I presume to 
ask, whether Mr. Vivian, upoo this occa- 
sion, dediued to act Lothario : " 

" Miss Strictland, yoa do not do my sister 
justice!" cried lady Sanih — " miss Strict- 
land you aie wrong ! — very wrong ! " 

Miss Strictland, for a moment struck" 
dumb with astonishment, opening her eyes as ■ 
far as they conld open, stared at lady Sarafa, 
and, after a pause, exclaimed — 

"Lady Sarah! — I protest, I never saw 
any thing, that sur])iised nie so much in mj 

whole life ! Wrong ! — very wrong ! — 

1 ? My lady Glistonhury ? 1 trust 

your ladyship ." 

Lady Glistonhury, at this instant, showed, 
by a little involuntary shake of her head» , 
that she was inwardly pertmhcd: lady Sa- 
rah threw herself upon her knees before her 
mother, holding up her joined hands in th^i 
attitude of prayer. , 

" Oh, madam ! — Mother! forgive me, if 

I failed in respect to miss Strictland ! 

But, my sister ! my sister! " 

" Rise, Sarah, rise ! " — said lady Gliston- 
btiry, pulling asunder lady Sarah's sapi 




V I V I A N. 225 

cadog bands — " that is not a fit attitude ! — 
And yon are wrong, very wrong, to fail 
in respect to miss Strictlaod, my second self, 
Sarah. — Lady Julia Lidhurst, it is yon, 
who are the canse of this — the only failnro 
ofdntyyonr sister ever was gnilty of, to*; 
wards me, in the whole course of her life — 
I beg of yon to withdraw, and leave me my 
daughter Sarah." 

" At least, I have found a sister, am! 
when r most wanted it," said lady Julin. 
" I always^ suspected you loved me ; but I 
never knew how ninch, till this moment," 
added she, turning to embrace her sister'; 
but lady. Sarah had now resumed her stnay 
appearance, and, standing motionless, re- 
ceived her sister's embrate without sign of 
life-or feeling' — 

•* Lady Julia Lidhurst," said miss Strict' 
land, — " you humble yourself in vain; I 
think your motlicr, my Udy Glistonbury, re- 
quested of you to leave your sister, lady Sa^ 

Tab, to ns, and to her duty ." 

" Duty !" — repeated lady Julia, her eyes 
flashing indignation — *' Is this what' you j 
call duty?^ — Never will I humble myself''] 

before you again \ will leave you — -Ij 

L 5 



r 



fil^ VIVIAN. 

dg leave ypu — - row iinil for ever— — • 

PUTv! — — " 

Slie witU(lr¥w;-^«nd time was lost oiia 
i>f the ^irest occugiQiis of couiinaing a. 
};(kuag ^nd c^udid niiiid in pi-udeiit and ex- 
cellent dispoeitioiis. After intmbling bcF* 
Self, iq vain, Ijefore a, matlier, this poor 
yQWMg Iqdy waa now to withstand a father'i 
reproaches ; and, after the inexorable niisft 
^trictlaad, sho was to encounter the exas~ 
pcratcd miss Bateinan. Whether the Gop* 
jpo tciroui'3 qf oqe gpvei'fiess, or the fury 
pi^;{>iu^s «f the Qther, wet^ tuost ti>nntdable» 
it was difficult to decides Miss Batejuaa 
bad wvittcu aH epilogtie for lady Julia, to 
recite i\\ tlie character uf Cali^ta ; sud, H'itH 
tlte cumbijied iri'itabUity vf authoress and 
governess she was enraged at the idea of 
ter pupil's declining to repeat these fa- 
vourite liuts. Lord (Jiistoubary cared not 
for the lilies; but, considering his own au- 
thority to b? iiwpeiirlied by his daughter's 
resistance, he treated Ids Julia as a traitor 
lo I^is cause, aftd a rebel to his party. It was 
in vain, tha,t Mr. Kuss«ll eudeavouced ta 
fes^son with his lordship : there was notluBg 
%iM. l«v'4siup vndefstpod so UUle, or halted so 



VIVIAN. 427 

niDcJbj as rea£OD : he looked npon it, indeed, 
as no afiroDt to his understand iiig;, that any 
ooe shotdd talk of reason to him ; for boi 
considered his tact, npon all subjects, as iu- 
fiillible, aud, M his lordship said to Mr. , 
RaHell — 

" Sir, — when a gentleman or a noble- 
TOfOt has made up hi'; opinions, H'hat is the 
Ute of reasoning- with him, since that is ouly 
saying, in other words, that your reason is 
right, and his wrong, which is an insult to 
a rational being's understanding, that no 
maa of any talent would willingly re- 
ceive, and which, I conceive, no man of 
any politeness would willingly oftei-. Be- 
sides that, really, a memlMT of either house," 
added his lordship, with a snpertilionsly 
facetioDS smile, "realty, a member of either 
house has such a surfeit of debating, in fiis' 
coDDtry's service, that, upon hononr, sir, I 
think he may, duririf^ a recess, he anowed' 
an exemption from all arguments and rea- 
»oiu»g wbatsoeTer — nriles emeritus, sirl^- 
Yott, who are a scholar, umierstand the 
force ol' that apology ; and, at all events, I 
will huv« my (Jaughter Julia obey me, and 
p)iiy- Cwlieta — meo peric-clo." 



"j^8 VIVIAN. 

Russell had ho right to interfere farther ; 
but lady Julia was resolute in declining to 
play Calista ; and Vivian admired the spirit 
aud steadiness of her resistance to the 
, solicitations and the flattery, with which 
she was assailed by the numerous hangers 
on of the family, and by the amateurs assem- 
bled at Glistonhury. Russell, who knew 
the warmth of her temper, however, dreaded, 
that she should pass the hounds of propriety 
in the contest with her father and iier go- 
verness ; and he almost repented having- 
given any advice up«n the subject. The-- 
contest, happily, terminated in lord Glis- 
tonbury's having a violent fit of the gout,.. ' 
which, as the newspapers informed the puh — 
lie, " terminated, for the season, the Christ- - 
mas hospitalities and theatrical festivities, 
at Glistonhury Castle !" ' 

Whilst his lordship suffered this fit o^)\ 
tortare, his daughter Julia attended hinu i 
with so much patience and affection, that he-: ' 
forgave her for not being willing to be Calis-t . 
ta ; and, upon his recovery, he announced td- 
miss Bateman, that it was his wdl and pleaP-. 
sure, that his daughter Julia should do as/ ! 
she liked ofl this point, hut that he desired 



VIVIAN. 229 

k to-be understood, that this was no conces- 
sion to lady Glistonbury'a prejudices, but an- 
act of his own pure grace; 

To celebrate bis recovery, bis lordship' 
■determined to g^ve a ball ; and miss Bate- 
man persaaded him to make it & fancy ball. 
In this family, unibrtunately, every- occnr- 
rence, even every proposal of amusemeat, 
became a snbject of disi)ute, and a source of. 
misery. Lady Glistonbury, as soon as her 
lord annomiced hia intention of giving thi? 
fancy, ball, declined taking the direction of^ 
an entertainment,- which approached, she 
said, too near tothe nature of a masquerade, . 
lo meet hec ideas of propriety. Lord Glis— ■ 
tonbury laugbedi and tried the powers of'" 
ridicnle and. wit : . — 

" Baton th'-imptusiveice, the lightnings play'd."" 
— ^To reason; also, lord Glistonbnry had'noTUr 
recourse; and, forgetfal of his late abjura- 
tion' of. it's authority, complained, that it^ 
was a very strange thing, that it was impos- 
sible to bring lady Glistonbury ever to listen', 
to reason on any one subject — even on a' 
point of taste. The lady's cool obstinacy 
was fiilly a match for her lord's petulance: 
to all- be could urge, she repeated, that^ 



' «90 VIVIAN. 

" such entcrlainnients did not meet her idea4 
of propriety." Her ladyship, lady Sarah, 
and miss Stilctlnnd, roaseqTientty declare^ 
it to be their resolntion, " to appear in their 
own proper characters, and their own pro- i 
per dresses, and no othtTS." 

These three rigid seceders excepted, ail 
the world at GUstonbury Ca.stle, and within 
it's sphere of attraction, were occupied with 
preparations for this ball. Miss Batetnan 
was quite in her element, flattered and flat- 
tering, coDsiitting and consnlted, in the 
midst of novels, plays and poetry, print» 
and pictures, searching for apjiropriate cha- 
racters and dresses . This preceptress) 
seemed to think and to expect, that others) 
should deem her office of governess raerelw 
A subordinate part of her business : she con- 
sidered her having accepted of the superia- 
tendance )rf the education of lady JbIIa 
Litdlmcst, as a prodigious condescension oi%. 
her part, and a derogation from her rank, 
and pretensions in the literary and fiishion- 
able world ; — a peculiar and sentimental fa- 
vour to lord Glistonbury, trf' which his lofd* 
ship was bounds in hononr, to show bit 
Knasj by treating her us, a member of his. 



VIVIAN. 23 1 

faiuily, not only with disthignishetl polite- 
ness, but by dej'err'mg to her opinicm in all 
tilings, so as to prove to ber satisfaction, 
tliat she wus coiisidereii only as a friend, 
aod not at all as a governess. Thus she was 
raised ns muth above that station in the fa- 
mily, in which she could be nsefnl, as tjover- 
QQsses, in other bonses, have been sometimes 
depressed below their proper rank. Upon 
this, as upon all occasions, miss Bateman 
was the first person to be tlioiight of — her 
character and her dress were the primary 
pQlBts to be determined ; and they were 
poiQts of DO easy decision, she having pro~ 
posed for herself no less than five charac- 
ters — the foir Rosamond — Joan of Arc — 
Cleopatra — Sigismuoda — and Circe. Af- 
ter minute eoosideration o^ tlie dresses, 
which, at », fancy ball, were to constitute 
tltese characters, fair Rosamond was re- 
jected, " becaustj the old Englisli dresg 
tuoffled Bp the person too nmch -, Joan of 
Arc voold find her armour inconvenient 
for danciug ; Cleopatra's diadem antl royal 
purple would certainly be truly becoming, 
bat tben, ber regal length of train was a» 
iaad]iiis6ibic ta a dancing dress, as Joan of 



S52 . VIVIAN. 

Arc's armour." Between SlgismBnda and' 
Girce, miss Bateman's choice long vibrated. 
The Spanish and the Grecian costame had' 
each it's' claims onher favour; for she wa*- 
assnied they both became her remarkably.- 
Vivian- was admitted to the consultation ;- 
he was informed, that there mnst be both'' 
a Circe and a Sigisnnmda ; and that Iad^'~ 
Julia was to take whichever of the two cha-*- 
racters miss Bateman declined, lading; 
the tleUberatbn,. lady Julia, whispered : t»i 
Vivian; 

*' For mercy's sake! contrive, that I'mayr" 
not: be doomed to be Circe ; for Circe, is no* ' 
better than - — Ciiliata." 

Vivian was charmed with her ladyship's- 
delicacy and discretion: he immediately deJ- 
cided her governess, by pointing out the"* 
beautiful headdress of Flaxman's Circej, 
and observing, that miss Bateman's haipi' 
(which was a wig) might easily be arranged/j 
so as ta produce the same effect. Lady Ju-- 
lia rewarded Vivian for this able and snc*- 
cessful manceovrej hy one of her sweetest r 
smiles. Her smiles bad now powerful in- 
fluence over his heart. He rebelled against 
Rusaell's advice to take more time to con-. 



VIVIAN. 233 

sider how far liis character was suited to 
hers : he was conscious, indeed, that It 
would be more prudent to wait a httle 
longer, before he should declare his passion, 
as lady Julia was so very young and enthu- 
siastic, and as her education had been so iU 
jnanaged ; but he argued, that the worse 
her education, and the more imprudent; the 
people about her, tbe greater was her merit 
in conducting herself with discretion, and. 
in trying to restrain her natural enthusiasm-. 
Bussell acknowledged this, and gave all due 
pi-aisc to lady Julia ; yet still, he represented^ • 
that Vivian had been acquainted with her so 
.short a time, that he could not be a compe- 
tent judge of her temper and disposition, 
even if his judgment ^vere cool; but it was 
evident, that his passions were now engaged 
■warmly in her favour. All that Russell 
.urged for delay, so far operated, however,. 
upon Vivian, that he adopted a half mea- 
sure, and determined to try what chance he 
migbt have of pleasing her before he should 
either declare his love to her ladyship, or 
make Ilia proposal to her father. A favour- 
able opportunity soon occurred. On tbc 
4ay appointed for the taucy ball^, tU^ yPWg , 



ILL. 




VIVIAN. 

lord Lidhnrst, who was to be Taacred, was 
taken ill of a feverish complaint ; he wns of 
a very weakly constitntioa, and his friends 
were much alarmed by his frequent indispo^ 
sitions. His physicians ordered qniet ; he 
was confined to his own apartment ; and 
another Tancred wa& of coiirBe to be sought 
for: Viv'ian ventnred to offer to assame th« 
character; and his manner, when he inade 
this proposal to his fair Sigismunda, thon^k 
it was intended to be merely polite and gal- 
lantj wae so much agitated, that she now, 
for the first time, seemed to perceive tlie 
etate of his heart. Colouring high, hvt 
ladyship answered, with hesitation uDnsnal 
to her, " that she believed — she fancied — 
that is, she understood from her brother — 
that he had deputed Mr. Russell to repre- 
sent Tancred in his place." 

Vivian was not displeased by this answer; 
the change of colour, and evident em- 
barrassment, appeared to him favourabl* 
omens ; and he thought, that, whether th« 
embarrassment arose fi-oin nnwillingness to 
let auv uiau but her brother's tutor, a man 
domesticated in the f^iily, appear as her 
Tancred, or whether she was afraid .of of- 



J 



VIVIAN. ess 

kii£ng Mr. Rasse]), by cbaDgin^ tke ar- 
raDgemeDl her brother had ma/te ; ht either ', 
case, V^ivian tclt ready, thongh a man id 
lore, to approve of his mistress's laotiveg. 
As to the rest, he was certain, that Rnsselt 
woold declioe the part assigned him: and, 
i£ Vivian expected, Rassell came, in a few 
minutes, to resign his preteusiow;, or, mther, 
to state, that, though Lidharst had proposed 
it, be had never thought of accepting the 
honour ; and that he should, iu all proba^ 
bility, Qot appear at the ball, because he was 
anxioDS to stay, as much as possible, with 
lord Lidhurst, whose indisposition, in- 
creased, instead of abated. Lord Gliston- 
Wry, after this explanation, came ia high 
(pirits, and, with much satisfaction ia his 
Countenance and manner, said he was happy 
to hear, that his Sigisniunda was to have 
Mr. Vivian for her Tancred. So far, all 
was prosperous to our hero's hopes. 

Bpt, when he saw lady Julia again, which 
;was not till dinner time, he perceived an un- 
fevourable alteration iu her manner — not 
the timidity or embarrassment of a girl, 
who is uncertain oWhether she is or is not 
pleased, or whether she should or shouhl 






r 



SSff VIVIAN; 

not appear to be pleased, by tBe first ap- 
proaches of a new lover — but there was itt" 
her manner a decided haughtiness, and an- 
unusual air of displeasure and reserve.-- 
Though be Mit beside her, and. diougli, im 
general, her deligbtiiil conversation ha* 
been addressed either to him or Mr. RusselJj 
they were now liOth dejirived of this ho.- 
nour ; whatever she said, and all she said^, 
■was unlike herself, was directed to person* 
opposite to her, even to the led captain, the' 
lawyer, and the family parasites, whose' 
existence. sbe commonly^ seemed- to forget.. 
She ,ate as well as s})oke in a hnrried man- 
ner, and as if jn defiance of her feelings.. 
Whilst the bourses were cbangiiig, she 
turned towardg Mr. Vivian ; and, after Efci 
rapid examining glance at his countenance^ 
she said, in a low voice' — " You miist think 
me, Mr. Viviauj very unreasonable ancE 
whimsical — hnt 1- have given op all' 
thoughts of being Sigismnnda — Will yotf- 
oblige me so far eis not to appear in the 
dress of Tancred to night ? — Yon will thuit' 
spare me all farther difficulty. — You know 
my mother and sister have declared tbeir- 
determination not to wear any fancy dressy 



^ 



: — n 

VIVIAN. 237 

;«nd, tliougli my father is anxioas tliat I 
■should, I believe it may be best, that I 
^oald, in this instance, follow my own 

judgment. May I expect that you will ' 

oblige me ? " I 

Vivian declared his entire submission to 
ier ladyship's judgment : and he now was 
-delighted to be able to forgive her for all 
seeming caprice ; becanse he thought he saw 
an amiable motive for her condoct — the 
wish not to displcTise her mother, and not 
to excite the jealousy of her sister. 

The hoar when the ball was to commence 
arrived ; die room filled with company ; and 
Vivian, who flattered himself with the plea- 
sure of dancing all night with lady Julia, 
as the price of his prompt obedience, looked 
round the room, in search of his expected 
partner; hut he searched in vain. He 
looked to the door at every new entrance — 
no lady Julia appeared. Circe, indeed, was 
«v£ry where to be seen and lieard, and an 
uglier Circe never touched this Earth ; but 
she looked happily confident in the power 
of her charms. Whilst she was intent upon 
fascinating V^ivian, lie was impatiently wait- 
ing tor a moment's intermission of her volu- 



I ner voiu- j 



iHlitjr, tJiat he mi^t ask what had bRomaq 
ot lady Julia. 

" Lady Jnlia ? — She's somewhere in £bei; 
room, 1 suppose. — Oh! no: I remember,, 
she told me she would go and sit a tjuarter 
of an hour with her brother. She will soon ] 
make her appearance, I suppose ; bnt 1 am' 
so angry with her, for disappointing as alt^ 
and you in particularj by changing her miod i 
ahoutSigtsmunda! — Such a capital Tancrcd J 
as you would have made! and now yon ar«> 
no character at all ! But then, yon are oiily.'| 
on a par with certain ladies. Comfort yoar- 
self with the great Pope's (I fear, too trucj) _, 
reflection, that — 



Miss Batemau's eye glanced insolently^i; 
as she spoke, upon lady Glistonburj's trio, 
who passed by at tbis instant, all without 
tancy dresMis. Vivian, shocked by this ill : 
iM-eediug towards the mistress of the boose,-], 
offered his arm immediately to lady Gliaton- 
bury, and conducted her, with lady Sarah 
and miss Strietland, to their proper places, 
where, having seated themselves, each in 
tbe same attitude precisely, they looked 



1 



V I V I A N. 289 

mate like martyrs prrpared for endurance, 
tlmn like persons in a biill-room. Vtviaik 
stuid to speak a few words to lady Gliston- 
bary, and was jnst going; away, when her 
ladyship, addressing him witb more than 
iier asiial formality, said — 

" Mr. Vivian, I see, has not adopted the 
^bion of the day ; and, an he is the only 
gentleman present, whose fancy dress does 
not proclaim him engaged to some partner 
equally _/o«C(/m/, I cannot bnt wish that ray 
danght«r, lady Sarah, should, if she dance 
at all to night, dance tvith a gentleman, in 
his own proper character." 

Vivian, thus called upon, felt compelled 
to ask the honour of lady Sarah's hand ; but 
he flattered himself, that, after the first 
dance, he should have tlone his dnty, and 
tkat he should be at liberty by the time 
Julia should make her appearance. Bnt, 
to his great disappointment, Mr. Russell, 
^ho came in just as he had finished the 
first two dances, informed him, that lady 
Julia was determined not to appear at 
the ball, but to stay with her brother, 
who wished for her company. So poor 
Vivian found himself doomed to be lady 



ifOf V 1 V I AN. 

Sarah*s partner for the remainder of tbi 
night. It happened, that, as he was hanii^ 
ing her ladyship to supper, in passing' 
through an antichamher, where some of th*' 
neighbours, of inferior rank, had been per* ' 
mitted to assemhle, to see the show, h*<l 
beard one farmer's wife say to another, 
" Who bean that there, that's handing o^ 
lady Sarah?" — They were detained a Iittle| 
hy the crowd, so that he had time to hear* 
the whole answer. — "Don't you know?"ii 
was the answer. " That there gentlemaub 
is Mr. Vivian, of the new castle, that is to'* 
be married to her directly, and that's what^ 
he's come here for; for they've been engaged 
to one anotiier ever since the time o' the* 
election." "}, 

tThis speech disturbed onr hero's mind'' 
considerably; for it awakened a train o<i 
reflections, which he had wilfully left dor- ' 
mant. Will it, can it be beliewd, tliat^ ' 
after all his friend Russell's exhortations, 
after his own wise resolutions, he had never ' 
yet made any of those explanatory speeches 
he had intended? 
I " Positively," siiid he to himself, *' this 



VIVIAN. Q-M 

longer. 1 M-ill propose for lady Julia 
dlmrst before I slccj). Russell, to be 
Bore, advises nic not to lie precipitate — to 
^ke more time to study her disposition ; 
but I nm acquainted with her sufficiently ;'* 
^o should have said, I am in love with her 
sufficiently ;) "' and really now, I ani honnd ■ 
in honour immediately to declare myself — 
k is the best possible way of putting a stop 
report, vliich will he ultimately in- 
^jurions to lady Sarali Lidhurst." 

Thus Vivian made his past irresolution 
an excuse for his present precipitation, flat- 
tering himself, as men often do, when they 
are yielding 1o the impulse of their passions, 
that they are submitting to the dictates of 
reason. — At six ji'clock in the morning the 
jompany diqjersed. Lord Glistonbnry and ' 
Vivian were the last in the ball-room. His 
Lordship began some raillery upon our 
lero's having declined appearing asTancred, 
and upon his having devoted himself all 
night to lady Sarah. Vivian seized the 
moment to explain his real feeliugs ; and he 
made his proposal for lady Julia. It was 
received with •na.rtu approbation by the 
father, who SEiid, he had always predicted 

VOL. V. M 



and who: 



a^ VIVIAN. 

that Julia iTonlil be his favourite ; 
sceiiiwl to rf jnicc the more in this proposal, 
because he knew, that it would disappoint 
;^nd mortify lady Glistonlrary. — The inte- 
rests of his hatred set^mcH, indeed, to occupy 
his lordship more than the interests of Vi- 
vian's love ; hut politeness threw a decent veil 
over these feeling, and, after saying all that 
could he expected of the satisfaction it must 
he to a fatlier, to see his daughter united 
to a man of. Mr. Vivian's family, fortune, 
talents, and great respectability ; and after 
havhig given, incidentally and parentheti- 
eiilly, his o^iinioiis, not only concerning ma- 
trimony, hot concerning all other affairs of 
Ituinan life, he wished his future son-in~]av 
a very go<Ki night, and left him to repose. 
But no rest, could Vivian take — he waited 
ivith impatience, that made every hour appear 
at least two, for the time ivhen he was again 
to meet lady Julia. He saw her at break-* 
fast ; but he perceived, by ht:r countenance, 
that phe as yet knew nothing of his pro- 
posal. After breakfast, lord Gllstonhury 
said,/* Come with me, my little Julia! it h 
a long tjine since I've had a walk and a 
talk with you." His lordship paced up and 



VIVIAN. 24S 

down the terrace, talking earnestly vriih ]ier, 
for some time : he then went on to some 
lahoorers, irho were cuttincr do^vn a tree at 
the farthest end of the avenue. Vivian 
hastened ont to meet ladv Julia, uho, after 
standing deep in thought for some mb- 
mfSBts, seemed returning towards the castle. 



M !2 



CHAPTER IX 



1 



i'* Perhaps, Mr. Vivian," said lady Julit^ 
" I ought, at this instant, to pretend to be 
ignorant of the hontwir -you have done me 
and ]}erhaps I ought .to wait in form, and 
affect pretty surprise, at hearing from yoOj 
■nliat I have just learned from my father. 
But I am little skilled in coquetry ; I dis- 
daijj all female afleetation, though I tnist ] 
am not deficient in maidenly juodesty, wheB 
that is not incompatible ivith M'hat I deem a 
higher virtue — sinceritj-. Now and ever, 
frankness is, and shall be, my only policy. 
The confidence I am about to repose in you, 
sir, is the strongest proof of my .esteem, am 
of the gratitude I feel for your attaclunent. 
— My heart is no longer in my power to 
bestow. It isj young as I am, I dare to 
pronounce the words, irrevocably fixed upoa 
one, who will do honour to my choice. 
Your proposal was made to my father — 
Wliy was it not made to me ? — --Men 



lu. 



VIVIAN. a-is- 

aQ men bnt one — treat womeit as puppets, 
and then wander that tbey are nut rutionnt' 
creatures! — Forgive me tliis too josl re- 
jiroacli. — - But, as 1 n-as going to say, yoar 
proposal has thrown me into great diffi- 
culties — the greater, because my father 
warmly approves' of it. I have a strong afl'ec- 
tion for him; and, perhaps, a year or two- 
ago, I should, in the ignorance in which I 
was dogmatically brought op, have tliought 
it my duty to aubiuit implicitly to parental 
authority, and to reeeiye a husband, from 
the hands of a father, ivithoiit consulting 
either my own heart or my own judgment. 
But, since ray mind has been more en- 
lightened, and has opened to higher views 
of tlie dignity of my sex, and higher hope* 
of happiness, my ideas of duty have altered ; 
and, I trnst, I have sufficient courage to 
support my own idea of the rights of my 
sex, and my own firm conviction of what is 
just and becoming," 

Vivian was again going to say something; 
but, whether against or in favour of ther 
rights of the sex, he had not clearly decided, 
when her ladyship saved him the tro&Ie, 
by proceeding with the train of her idea^. 



F 



MS VIVIAN. 

" My sincerity towards my falhcr will, 
perhaps, cost me dear ; Imt I caunot repent 
of it. As soon as 1 knew the state of my 
own heart — which was not till very lately, 
— which was not, indeed, till yon ga^'e me 
reason to think you seriously liked loc — 
I openly told my father all 1 knew of my 
own heart. — Would yon believe it ? — 
I am sure I should not, unices 1 had seen 
and felt it — my father, who, you know, 
profvsses the most liberal opinions poi^sible ; 
Diy fatlier, who^ in conversation, is 'AU 
for love, and the world well lost;' my 
father, who let mm Bntemaa put the 
Heloise into ihy hands, was nBtoiiisbedj 
ihorked, indignant, at his own danghter'g 
confcesion, I should say, assertion, of her 
prefei-ence of a man of high merit, whrt 
wants only the advantages, if they be advan- 
tages, of rank and fortune. My father wa» 
more astonished, more shocked, more Indig- 
nant, than I can dcscrlbQ to yon — quite mit-, 
rageons, at the first hint of my tlunking of any- 
thing, in short, but a suitable estahlishnentij 
an c^itablishmentthat should strengtben his 
poHtiral connexions, and do honour, in the 
eyes ol' the fashionable world, to his fa- 



VIVIAN. ii47 

vonrite dangfater. — Oh I the iiarrow-iiiliidcd 
selfishness^ the coldness of ho'riit, the ajjrithy ! 
But of mv father let uic not :-nv a disi 



"C 



spectftil, an unkind word — he loves me — 
I wish I could esteem him as I did — I 
thought him superior to vulgar prejudices. 
— Would not you have thought so from^his 
conversation ? — He it was who first en- 
larged my mind. Would to Heaven ! that 
ie had never taken me from mv mother^ 
strict vigilance, from ' the hliss of ]p:i(>- 
rance,' in which I was brought i-p, iiiilcfy 
I am to be allowed to use my understanding, 
to f(dk)W the dictates of my heart, and to 
enjoy the liberty of a freebom, rational 
creature! ** 

Lady Julia, as she turned her eyes up to 
Heaven, looked at least a beautiful creiiture. 

^^ Mr. Vivian/* continued sh^, " may I 
hope, that now, when you must be convinced 
of the inefficacy of any attempt, either to 
win or to control my affections, you will have 
the generosity to spare me all unnecessary 
contest with my father ? If I am driven to 
oppose my father's commands, and to reject 
the offer of an establishment, of a con- 
nexion, which is every thing he desires 



248 VIVIAK. 

'for mc, it will, withont being of any ad^nn- 
tage to you, increase my difficulties. It 
most render him more averse from the only 
onion, that can make his daughter, happy 

and it may min the fortunes of the 

first, in my opinion,of human beings. I Icare 
it to yon, who have," contimied lady Julia, 
smiling, " so mnch more practice in these' 
things than I iuive, to devi-.e some means: 
of withdrawing yonr suit. — I will request 
another favour from you — and let my willing- 
ness to be obliged by you convince you, that 
I appreciate your chai'acter — I request, 
that you will not only keep secret all tEat I 
have said to you ; but that, if accident, or 
your own penetration, should hereafter dis- 
cover to you the object of iny afi'ection, you 
will refrain from making any use of that 
discovery to my disadvantage. — You see 
}iow entirely I have thrown myself on your 
honour and generosity." 

Vivian assured her, that the appeal was 
powerful with him ; and that, by mastering 
his own passions, and sacrificing his feelings 
to hers, he would endeavour to show his 
strong desire to secure, at all events, her 
happiness. 



249 

" I expected this generosity from yoa, 
Mr. Vivian," said lady Julta; "and I am 
glad to find that I was not inistalien. You 
are not like some pretended lovers, who 
begin to hate, and attempt to injure, the mo- 
ment they are disajipointed, or the moment 
their vauity is wounded. This is one ex- 
ample more added to my own experience, 
which convinces me, that tme love is pnre 
from, vanity — I Wiis a very vain, chiUlLsh- 
creature, till love cured me of vanity, and 
of a thousand faults and foihles. How it 
expands, exalts, eunohles the mind I Happy 
«r miserable, in my future life, I have at 
least felt this ' unreproved pleasure!'" 

" Charming woman ! " exclaimed Vivian, 
" may you never, as I do, feel the pain of 
disappointed affection!" 

" You are tnily generous, Mr. Vivian, to 
listen to me with indulgence, to wish for mv 
happiness, whilst I have been wounding 
your feelings. But, without any impeach- 
ment of vour sincerity, or yet of your sen- 
sibility, let ine say, that yours will be only a 
transient disappointment. Your acquaint- 
ance with me is but of yesterday, and the 
slight impression made on your mind will 
M 5 



250 VIVIAN. 

soon be effaced ; but, upon my mind, there 
has been time to grave a deep, a fiwt cha* 
ractery of love, that never, whilst memory 

holds her seat, can be erased. 1 believe,** 

said Julia, checking herself, whilst a sud- 
den blush overspread her countenance — ^^ I 
am afraid I have said too much, too much 
for a woman. The fault of my character, 
I know, I have been told, is the want of 
what is called reserve." 

Blushing still more deeply, as she pro-r 
Tiounced these last words, the colour darting 
up to her temples, spreading over her neck^ 
and maiking it's way to the very tips of her 
fingers — "Now I have done worse," cried 
she, covering her face with her hands. — 
But, the next moment, resuming, or trying 
to resume, her self-possession, she said, — " It 
itj time that I should retire, now that I have 
revealed my whole heart to you. It has, 
perhaps, been imprudently opened, but for 
that your generosity, sir, is to blame. Had 
you shown more selfishness, I should as^ 
Buredly have exerted more prudence, and 
have treated you with less confidence." 

Lady Julia quitted him, and Vivian rei- 
fastiDed in a species of amase, irom which 



VIVIAN. 251 

he could not immediately recover. Her 
frankness, her magnanimity, her enthusi- 
asti<i sensibility, her eloquent beauty, had 
all together exalted to the highest ecstacy his 
love and admiration. Then he walked 
about beating his breast in despair at the 
taught of her affections being irrecoverably 
engaged — next quarrelled with the. bold- 
ness of the confession, the assertion of her 
love — then decided, that, with all her shin- 
ing qualities and noble dispositions, she was 
not exactly the woman a man should de*- 
siixj for a wife. There was somethhig to» 
rash^ too romantic about her. • There wa« 
in her character, as she herself had said, 
and as Russell had remarked, too little re- 
sewe. Something like jealousy and distrust 
of his friend arose in Vivian's mind — 
^^ What !" said he to himself, ^^ and is Rus- 
sell my rival ? and has he been all this time 
in secret my rival ? Is it possible, that 
Russell has been practising upon the affec- 
tions of this innocent; young creature — con- 
fided to him, too? All this time, whilst 
he has Ixjen cautioning me against her 
charnis, beseeching itie not to propose for 
her precipitately, is it possible, that he 



252 VIVIAN. 

wanted only to get, to keep the start of h»e?' 
— No — impossible! utterly impossible 1 If 
all the circumstances, all the evidence upott 
Earth conspired, I would not believe it." . 
Resolved not to do injustice, even in his 
inmost soul, to his friend, oar hero repelled 
all suspicion of Russell, by reflecting on hi» 
long ami tried integi^ity, and on the warmtlk 
and fidelity of his friendship. In this tem- 
per, he was crossing the castle yard to go to 
Russell's apartment, when he was met and 
stopped by one of the domesticated friends 
of the family, Mr. Mainn-aring, the yonQS^ 
lawyer: he wa.s in the confidence of lord 
Glistonbnry ; and, proud to show it, he let 
Mr. Vivian know, that he was apprised of 
the proposal, that had been made, and con- 
gratoliitecl him, and all the parties con- 
cerned, on the prospect of such an agreeable 
connexion. Vivian was quite unprepared 
to apeak to any one, much less to a lawyer, 
upon this subject ; he had not even thought 
of the means of obeying lady Julia, by with- 
drawing his suit ; therefore, with a mixture 
of vexation and embarrassment in his man- 
ner, he answered in commonplace phrases, 
meant to convey no precise meaning, and 



VIVIAN. 253 

endeavoured to disengage himself from his 
companion : but the lawyer, who had 
fastened npon him, linking his arm in Vi- 
vian's, continued to walk biin U]> and down» 
under the great gateway, saying, that he 
had a word or two of iiiij>Qrtauce for his 
private ear. This man had tal^en inucht 
pains to insinuate himself into Vivian's fa- 
vour, by the niobt obsequious and olBcions 
attentions ; tliongh his flattery had at first 
been disgusting, yet, by persevering in hia 
show of civility, he had at length inclined 
Vivian to think, that he was too harsh ioj 
his first judgment, and to believe, that^, 
" after all, Maiuwaring was a good, friendly 
tiellow, though his manner was against 
him." 

Mr. Mainwaring, with many professioas-. 
of regard for Vivian, and with sundry pre- 
Hiisings, that he hiizarded himself by the- 
communication, took the liberty of hinting 
that he guessed, from Mr. Vivian's manner' 
this morningjthatohstacles had arisen ontha 
part of a young lady, who should be name- 
less ; and he should make bold to add, that,, 
in his private opinion, the s[tid obstacles, 
would never be reraovedj whilst a certain 



person remained in the castle, and whilst 
the young lady aHuded to was allowed to^ 
spend so inoch ot' her time studying with t 
her brother when well, or nursing him 
when sick. Mr. Mainwaring declared, that.' 
he wa>* perfectly astonished at lord GHs- 
tonbui-y'sblindnesB or imprudence in keeping- 
this person in the house after the hints his. 
lordship had received, and after all the^ 
proofs, that must or may have fallen withift 1 
his cognizance, of the arts of seduction that 
had I)een employed. Here Vivian inter- i 
rupted Mr, Mainwaring, to beg, that he- 
would not keep him longer in suspense by 
inuendoes, but that he would name dis- ' 
tinctly the object of his suspicions. This,, 
however, Mr. Mainwaring begged to be ex- 
eiised from doing: he would only shake' 
his head, and smile, and leave people to- 
their own sagacity and penetration. Vivian 
warmly answered, that, if Mr. Mainwaring 
meant Mr. Russell, he was well assured^ 
tliiit Mr. Mainwaring was utterly mistaken 
in attributing to him any but the most ho- 
Hourable conduct. 

Mr. Mainwaring smiled, and shook his 
£ead — smiled again, and sighed, and hoped 



TIVIAN. 255 

Mr. Vman was right, and observed, that 
time would show; and that, at all events,. 
he trasted Mr. V'lviiiti wonld keep pro- 
lonndly secret the hint, which his friend- 
ship had, iadiscreetiy perhaps, hazarded. 

Scarcely had Mr. Mainwaring retiretl, 
when captain Pickering met and seized, 
upon ViviuD, led to the same subject, and 
gave similar hints, that Russell Has the 
happy rival,, who had secretly made hiin- 
Bclf master of lady Julia's heart. Vivian, 
&ough much astonisbed, finding that these 
gentlemen agreed in their discoveries, or 
their sospicions, still defended his friend' 
Rosseli, and strongly protested, that he- 
vonld he responsible for his honour with: 
his life, if it were necessary. The captain, 
shroggcd bis shoulders, said it was none of 
his business, that, us Mr. Vivian took it up- 
so warmly, he should let it drop; for it 
was by no means his intention to get into Br. 
qnarrel with Mr. Vivian, for whom he had 
a particular regard. This said, with all the 
frankness of a soldier, captain Pickering 
withdrew, adding, as the clergyman passed 
at this instant- — "There's a man, who. 
fould tell you more than any of ns, if he 



256 VIVIAN. 

wonld ; but, snug 's the word with Wicfc- 

sted ." 

Vivian, ift great anxiety and much curE- 
osity, appealed to Mr. Wickstcd : he prOf- 
tested, that he knew nothing, suspected nor- 
thing, at least could venture to say nothing p. 
for these were very delicate family matterav, 
and every gentleman should, on these occar- 
sions, make it a principle to see with his. 
own eyes. — Gradually,. .however, Mr. Wicle- 
sted let out his opision, and implied inti> 
nitely more than captain Pickering or Mel 
Main waring h;id asserted. Vivian still 
maintained, in the warmest terms, that it 
was impossible his friend Russell should be 
to blame: Mr.Wicksted simply pronounced! 
the word frhnd with a peculiar emph>isi», 
and, with an inrrediilous smile, lef, him to- 
his reflections. Thoee reflections were paint- 
ful; for, though he defended Russell from 
the attacks of others, yet he had not sufli" 
cient firmness of mind completely to resist 
the suggestions of suspicion and jealousy,, 
particularly when they had been corroho^ 
rated by so many conmrring testimonies. 
He had no longer the courage to go inu- 
mediately to Russell, to tell him of his pro- 



l media 



VIVIAN. 257 

j)osal forhuly JuUa, or to speak to liim of 
auy of hi> secret feelings ; but, tHining 
away fi-om the staircase, that led to Iiis 
friend's apartment, lie determined to ob- 
serve Russell with his own eyea before he 
should decide upun the tnith or "falsehood 
of the acCnsations, which had been brought 
Hgaiust him. Alas ! Vivian wa'* no longer 
in a condition to obf«r\'e with his own eyes ; 
his imagination was ho perturbed, that be 
could neither see nor hear any thing, a^ it 
really was. When be next ^aw Russell and 
lady Julia together, he wondered at hia 
blindness in not having sooner perceived 
their mutual attachment : notwithstanding 
that lady Julia bad now the strongest mo- 
tives to suppress every indication of hev ' 
passion, symptoms of it broke out conti- I 
nually, the more violent, perhaps, from her ] 
endeavours to conceal them. He" knew, 1 
that !she was passionately in love with Uns- i 
sel; and that Russell slioiihl not have per- " 
ceived what every otlier man, even every in- ] 
(lifterent spectator, had discovered, appeared J 
incredible. Kussell's calm nuinner and en- 
tire self-possession somethues provoked Vi- 
vian, and sometimes quelled lus suspicions; 



' IS* V I V I A X. 

'80iaetiin*8 he loulwdopon tills calmness a* 
the extreme of art, sometimes as a proof 
of innocence, which could not be coiintei*- 
feit. At on« moment, he was so ranch 
struck with RuBsell's friendly countenance, 
that, tjuife ashamed of his suspicions, hft 
was upon the point of speaking openly to 
hiui ; bvit, nufoi-lnnatelr, these intentions 
were frustrated hy some slight obstacle. 
At length, miss Strictlaud, who had lately- 
been very eonrtcous to Mr. Vivian, took an 
opportunity of drawing him into one of the 
recessed windows ; where, with infinitft 
difficulty in liringing herself to speak on 
such a subject, after inconceivable bridlings 
of the head, and contortions of every nmscle 
of her neck, she insinuated to him her fears, 
that my lord Glisten bui-y's confidence had 
been Very ill phiced in lord Lidhurst's tutor; 
she was aware, that Mr. Hussell had the 
honour of Mr. Vivian's friendship, but no- 
thing con}d prevent her from speaking, 
where she felt it to be so m«ch her duty; 
and that, as, from the unfortunate circnm* 
stances in the family, she had no longer 
any influence over lady .Julia Lidhurst, nor 
any chauce of being listened to, on such, a 



viviAK. wyi 

«il))ect, wkb jjatience bv lord (ilistonbnry, 
sLe tbongbt tbe best coarse she I'oiild take 
was to apply to Mr. Russell's friend, xvhty 
laigbt, possibly, by his interference, prevent 
the Qtter disgrace and ruin o( oui: briiiicli of 
a noble familv. 

Mies Strictland, in all sbe said, hinted 
not at Viviiio's attachment to lady Jnlia^ 
and gave him ikj reason to believe, that she 
was ap]>rised of his having; proposed for 
faer ladyship : she spoke ivitli much modera- 
tioD and candour; atu-ilmted all lady Jalia'» 
errours to the uuprudence of her new go- 
Terness, miss Bateman ; and miss Strictland 
now showed a desire not to make, but t» 
prevent mischief; even the circumlocntion9 
imd stiifuess of her halntual pmdery did 
Sot, on this occasion, seem unbcasonable : 
tterefore, what she suggested made a great 
impression on Vivian. He still, however, 
defended Bussell, and assured- miss Strict- 
land, that, from the long exjjerience he bad 
himself bad of his friend's honour, he was 
Convinced, that no temptatioh conld shake 
his integrity. Miss Strictland had formed" 
her opinion on this poiht, she said, and it 
would be vain to argue against it. Every 



£60 VIVIAN, 
new assertion ; the belief of eacli new per^ 
Bon, who spoke to him on the snhject ; the 
combination, the coincidence of all their 
opinions; wronght his nihid to such a 
height of jealousy, that he was now ab- 
solutely incapable of nsing his reason. Hs 
went in search of Rm-sell, but in no fit 
mood ta speak to him as he ought. Ha 
looked for him in his own, in lord Lid-" 
Imrst's apartment, in every sitting room in 
the castle ; but Mr. Russell was not to be 
found : at last lady Sarah's maid, who heard 
him inrjuiriag for Mr. Kussell from the 
Bervants, told him, " she fancied, that, if he 
took the trouble to go to the west walk, h«. 
might find Mr. Russell, as that was a fa- 
vourite walk of his," Vivian hurrietl thi- 
ther, with a secret CYpectation of finding' 
lady Julia with him — there they botli;^ 
were, in earnest conversation: as he ap-< 
proached, the trees concealed liim from 
view ; and Vivian heard his own name re- 
peated 

" Stop!" cried Fie, advancing — "Let 
me not overhear yonr Nccrets — I am not 
traitor to my friends 1 " 

A^ he ,spoke,, tig eyes fixed with an ex- 



VIVIAN. 261 

{ires.'iion of concentrated rage upon Russell. 
Terrified, by Vivian's sudden and strange 
appearance and address, and still more by 
le fierce look be cast on Russell, lady 
Julia started, and uttered a faint scream. 
With astonisbment, but without losing hia 
Relf-commaiid, Russell advanced towards 
Vivian, saying, " You are out of your senses, 

my dear friend! 1 will not listen to you 

in your present humour. — Ttike a turn or 
jtwo with me lo cool yourself — The anger 
of a ■friend should always lie allowed three 
minutes grace, a* least" — added Russell, 
smiling, and endeavouring to draw Vivian 
away: but Vivian stood iniiuovahlc; Rus- 
sell's calmness, instead of bringing him to 
jbis senses, only increased his anger; to his 
distempered imagination this coolness seemed 
perfidious dissimulation. 

" Yon cannot deceive me longer, Mr. 
Uosselljby all your artV cried he. "Though 
1 am the last to open my eyes, I have opened 
lliem. Why did you pretend to be my 
jCOQUsellor and friend, when you were my 
•rival ? — when you kiieiv that you were a 

■successful rival? Yes — start and affect 

astonishment! Ycs~look, if jon can, with 



ijgl VIVIAN. 

innoceni surprise npan that lady \ — Say, lliat 
yon have not betrayed her father's confi- 
dence! — say, that you have not practised 
iipoii her unguarded heart! — say, that yon 
■do not know, that she loves you to distrac- 
tion ! " 

"Oh! Mr. Vivian, what have yon done!" 
cried lady Julia; — she could say no more, 
but fell senseless on the ground. — Vivian's 
Anger was at once sobered by this sight, 

"What have I done!" repeated he, as 
they raised her from the ground. " Wr^ch' 
dishonourable villain that I am! I have 
betrayed her secret. — But I thought every 

body knew it! Is it possible, that yo« 

rfid not know it, Rnssell : " 

Rnssel! made no reply, hut ran to th* 
river, which was near them, for some water 
— Vivian was incapable of afibrding any as- 
sistance, or even of forming a distinct idea. 
As soon as lady Julia returned to her 
senses, Kasscll withdrew ; Vivian threw 
lum&elf on bis knees before her, and said 
ftoniething about the \'ioIence of his passion 
— his sorrow — and her forgiveness.— »- 
" Mr. Vivian," said lady Julia, turning 
to him with a niixtuce of despair aod dig- 



VIVIAN. 363 

bltv in her manner, "do not kavtA to rae; do 
|taot make use of any commonjilace phrases 
'»^I cannot, at this iiioiii«!iit, forgive yoii^ 
Yon bare don« me an iiTe|>arable injurv. I 
con6tIed a secret £0 yon — a secret, known 
to no human being bnt my father and your- 
self — you have revealed it, and to whom? 

Sooner would I have had it proclaimed 

to the whole world, tbiin to ; for 

what is the opinion of the whole world to 

me, compared to his!- Sunk, lost, per- 

laps, in his esteem! Sir, you have done 

me, indeed, an irremediable injury! — I 
tnisted to your Iionoar — your discretion — 

and you have betrayed, sacrificed me ." 

'* Vile suspicions ! " cried Vivian, striking 
his forehead — *' How could I listen to them 
for a moment!" 

" Suspicions of Mr. Rassell!" cried Julia, 
with a look of high indignation — " Suspi- 
lons of your nobleminded friend I — What 
iridcedness ! or what weakness ! " 

' Weakness ! — miserable weakness ! — the 
Hidden effect of jealousy ; and conld you know, 
idy Jolia, by what ineaust by what arts, my 
1 was worked up to this insanity! " 



L^ 



364 VIVIAN. 

" I cannot listen to this now, Mr. Vivimi,' 
mternipted lady Julia — " my thouffhts cai 
not fix upon such things, I cannot go bai 
to the past — What is done, cannot be un- 
done — What has been said, cannot be un- 
said. You cannot rccid your words — 

they were beard — they were understood. — 
I beg you to leave me, sir, that I may have 
leisure to think — if possible, to consider 
what yet remains for me to do. — I have no 
friend — none, none willing or capable of 
advising me! — 1 begged of you to leave me, 
sir ." 

Vivian could not, at this moment, decide, 
whether he ought or ought not to tell lady 
Julia, that her secret was known, or at least 
suspected, by many individualsof the family. 

" There's a ser\'ant on the terrace, whai 
seems to be lotting for ns, said Vivian ; 
had something of consequence to say — b 
this man ." 

" My lady, miss Bateman desired me toj 
let you know, my lady, tliat there is the ladj 
Playdels, and the colonelj and sir James, 
the drawing-room, just come; — and si 
begs, my lady, you will he pleased to com* 



k 



V 1 V I A X. 065 

10 them; for inim Bateman's waitins for 
yon, Bij- Iddy, to repeat tlic Twses, -she had 
me sar, uiy l»dy." 
"Go to tbefti. >fr.Vivta« ; I ctOtOdt go.** 
' My ladv," persistsd the foolnian, " iny 
Itord Iiimself brtrgerf you to tome; and he 
IlKid a]l the gentleraesi have heen loi^ng fet 
fon tvery rtbete." 
* RetarH to lay father, tben, attd say thai, 

Ism ccMiiiHg immediatety ." 

'Forced into comjjan)!" tbotjght ladf 
as she walked slowly towards the 
fcffuse i " coHJjrelk'd to appear C::^m and 

gay, when my heart is What a life of 

dissiimiLition ! How aoworthy of tac, 
foritted, as I was oncfe proconnced to be, 
far every thing, that is good &,nd grtatl — 
But I fffti no longer iiiistrees of tiysclf — no 
soul left bttt for ortc object. — Why &A t 

BOt better guard my heart? No! — 

"Sithcr, why cati I not ft;Ha\^ it's (iic:t4tc;i, 
tad at once avow nnd justify it's choice?" 

Viviati interrupted lady Julia's reVeHcby 
ointing out to her, as ihpy passed aJong 
!ie terrace, a group of boad.s, in one of (he 
hack windows of the castle, fbiit scemt'd to L»c 

VOL. V. N 



J 



[,:#66 VIVIAN. 

wutchiDg them very earnestly. Miss Strict- 
limd's lace was foremost; half her body was 
out of the window j and, as she drew bad, 
they heard her aay -~- " It is not he ! — It i* 
not he ! " — As they passed another front of 
the castle, another party seemed to be upon 
the watch at a staircase* window; — the 
lawyer, the captain, the clergyman's heade, 
appeared for a raonieut, and vanished. 

' " They seem all to be npon the watch for 
us," said Vivian. 

-" Meanness!" tried lady Julia. " Ts 
watch or to be wiitched, I know not which 
is most degrading. — But I cannot think 

they are watching ns ." 

" My dear lady Julia I — yet let me call 
you dear this once — my hopes are gone! — 
even for.your forgiveness, I have no right 
to hope — hut let mc do yon one pieceof 
service-^let me put your oi)en temjier on 
it's guard. You flatter yom-gelf, that tliE 
secret you confided to me is not known to 
an.y body living but to your father — 1 have 
reason to believe, that it fs suspected, if not 
positively known, by several other persous^ 
in this castle ."' 



VIVIAN. 267 

'^ Impossible! ^" 

*' I am certain, too certain, of what I 
say ." 

Lady Julia made a sudden stop; and. 
after a pause, exclaimed — 



1 1 it 



"'Then fafBi\-el hope! and with hope, farewcl iVar! 

*^ My lady, my lord sent \\w iigain; 
for my lord's very impatient for yon, my 
lady," said the same footman^ returning. 
Lord Glistonbury met them in the hall.— • 
" Why, Julia ! where have you bcjen all this 
time ?" He began in an imperious tone; but, 
seeing Mr. Vivian, his brow grew smooth 
and his voice good humoured instantly. — 
"Ha!-«So! So!-Hey! well!— All right! 
all right! — Good girl I Good girl! — Time 
for every thing — Hey ! Mr. Vivian ? — ^ One 
la solitude est charmante!' as Voltaire savj?. 
—Beg pardon for sending for you ; but in- 
temiption,*you know, prevents tetes-il-totes, 
on the stage, from growing tiresome ; and 
the stage, they say, holds the mirror uj) to 
nature. — But there's no nature now left to 
hold the mirtor up to — except in a few odd 
instances, as in my Julia, here! — — ^Wlterc 
so fiist, my blushing darling ? — = — -." 

N 2 



'■ I thought yon ■vvished, sfr, thftt I slioultl 
^o to lady Pkydel and str Jame? ." 

" Ay, ay, I sent for you to repeat tbo^ 
cliarmhig verses for them, lltat I could not 
clearly remember.-^ Go np! Go np!- — We'll 
follow you ! — We have a ivord or two to say 
about something — that's nothing to you." 

Lord Glistonhury kept Vivian for n fiill 
bonr in a state of considerable eftihafra^s- 
ment, talking to him of lady Julia, implying, 
that she was favourably digi)osed towards 
him ; but that she had a little pride, that 
might make her affect the contrary, at f5fst. 
■ — Then came a disquisition on pride, vrlth 
rjuotations and commonplaces ; — then a 
eulogium, by his lordship, on his lordslip's 
own knowledge of the human heart, and 
more es])ecially of that " moving toy-shop," 
the female heart ; — then anecdotes ilhisf ra- 
tive, com])risit!g the gitlMntt-feH of fhrffy 
year?j in various ranks of life, ivith snitaMc 
bon-mots and embellishments ; — then a 
little French sentiment, by way of mora}, 
with some philosopbicjil sixioms, to shot**,l 
that, though Re bad led snch a gav Kfej; 
he had been a deep thinker, and that, thtnigH 
nobody conid have thought, that he had 



\ 



VIVIAN. 2t)9 

hod tuac for reading, his ^'ciuiif li:ui siip- 
fiied him, he could not himself rculiy u.>U 
hoxVf with what other people, w iib the study 
of years, conld not master; — ;Ul nhLch, 
Vivisa u'a£ compelled to hear, whilst hi; 
was the whole time impatient to get away, 
that he might search for Mr. Russell, with 
ivhom he was anxious to have an explana- 
tion. Bnt at last, when lord Glistonbary 
set him free, he was not nearer to Iiis ohject 
Mr. Kusseil, he found upon inquirj', had 
not returned to the castle, nor did he return 
^dinner; he sent word, that he was en- 
gaged to dine with a party of gentlemen, at 
8 literary club, in a coantry town nine miles 
distant. Vivian ?ipent the greatest part of 
fthe evening in lord Lidhurst's apartment, 
expecting Russell's return ; but it grew so 
late, that lord Lidhurst, who was still indis- 
losed, went to bed : and when Vivian 
quitted his lordship, he met Russell's ser- 
vant in the gallery, who said his master had 
been come in an hour ago — "But, sir," 
added the man, " ray master won't let yon 
see him, I am sure ; for he would not let me 
in, and he said, that, if you asked for him, I 
■was to answer, that he could not see you to 



270 VIVIAN. 

night." — Vivian knocked^ in vain, at Rps* 
sell's door ; he could not gain admission ; so 
he went reluctantly to bed, detennined to 
rise very early, that he might see his friend 
as soon as possible, obtain lii's forgiveness 
for the past, and ask his advice for the 
future. 



271 . ^ 



CHAPTER X. 



Suspense, curiosity, love, jealonsy, remorse, 
any one of which is enough to keep a person 
awake all night, by turns agitated poor 
Vivian so violently, that, for several hours, 
be could not close his eyes ; but, at last, 
when quite exhausted, he fell into a ])ro- 
found sleej). The first image, that clhmo 
before his mind, when he awoke in the 
morning, 'was that of lady Jalia ; his next 

xecollection was of Russell - ' 

. "Is Mr. Russell up yet ? " said Vivian to 
bis servant, who was bringing in his boots. 
** Up, sir ! Oh yes, hours ago ! — he was 
o^at day break ! " 

" OflF!" cried Vivian, starting up in his 
bed ; " OflF! — Where is he gone ? " 

" I can't say, sir — Yes, indeed, sir, I 
beard Mr. RusselFs man say, that his master 
was going post to the north, to some old 
uncle, that was taken ill, which he heard 
about at dinner, from some of those gentle- 



272 VIVIAN. 

men tvhere he dined yesterday j bat I can t 
say positively. Bnt here's a letter he left 
for yon with me." 

" A letter I — Give it me!---Why didn't 
yoQ give it me sooner ? " 

" Why really, sir, yon lay so sonnd, ! 
(lidlt't care ti* waken yflii, eap«cinlly as yo« 
weie so angry >v'itU jue (ov widteniog y«B 
the other morning ; ami I wa^ up so lutw 
mjfwlti (oe, Uft aighi." 

" Ltav« ne now s m ring wkea I traa* 
yoa — ." 

" To C. ViviAK, E^q. ' 

" I would not se« you, after wfaxt pass8# 
" y^terday, because I feared, that I should' 
" Wtt speak to you with temper. — Lest yo* 
" ejbould misinterpret any thing I have for- 
" merly said, I must now solemnly assurQV 
" yoia, that I pever had the sKghtest Bwspi- 
" cion of the secrft yoa revealed to me, tiHi 
'* the rnoDJent when it was betrayed by- 
" year indiscretion. — Still 1 can scarcelyi* 
" o'edit what appears to mc so improbable i 
" but, even under this unecrtainty, I think- 
" it my duty to leave this family. Had tho- 



" slightest idea of -vchat yon snegcsttd ever 
"crossed my imaginatioii, 1 should then 
" have acted as J do now. I say this, not 
" to JHstify myself, hnt to coiiTinfe yoti, that 
"what I formerly hinted about reserve of 
" manners and pmdence was merely a ge- 
" nerttl refievfion. 

" For my oivn part, I seem to act 

■' HEROICALLY ; biit I iiiust disclaim that 

" applanse, to which 1 am not entitled. All 

'' powerful ae the temptation ni\ist appear 

"to you, dan^roue a« it ranst have been, 

" in other circumstances, to me, I can- 

" not clium any merit tor resisting it's in- 

"fluence. My safety i owe neither to my 

" own prudoTice nor fortitude. I will be still 

"more explicit. Lest I should leave any 

I "dodhts, respecting my feelings and senti- 

I "ments, which might he jnjurioas to the 

[ " happiness of one, for whose happiness I 

I *' am most earnestly and gratefully anxlousj 

I " I most now, Vivian, impart to yon a se- 

[ *• cret, which yon are at liberty to confide 

I " where and when you think necessiiry — 

I **niy heart is, and has long Ijeen, cn- 

" gaged. Whilst you were attached to miss 

I ** Sidney, I endeavom-ed to sfibdiw iny lors 



«74 VIVIAN. 

*' for ber ; and every symptom of it was, 1 
" hope and believe, suppressed. This de- 
" claration cannot now give you any pain ; 
" except so far as it luay, j^erbaps, excite in 
" your mind some remorse, for having nn- 
" warrantably, imwoithily, and weakly, snf- 
" fered yourself to feel suspicions of atme 
*' friend. Well as I know the infirmity of 
" your character, and willing as 1 have nl- 
" ways heen to make allowance for a fanlt, 
" which 1 thought time and experience 
" would correct, I was not prepared fortbia 
" last stroke ; I never thought your weak- 
" ness of mind wonld have shown itself in 
" snspicion of your best, your long-tried 
" friend. — Bvit I am at last convinced, that 
" your mind is not strong enough for con- 
*' fidence aud friendship. I pity, but I see, 
" that I can no longer serve; and 1 feel, 
" that I can no longer esteem you. Fare- 
"well Vivian. — May you 6nd a friend, 
" who will supply to you the place of 

" H. RuasELL." 

I 

Vivian knew Russell's cliaracter too -well 1 

to flatter himself, that the hitter part of thW | 

letter was written in anger, that wouIdJ 



V I A N. 973 

qnkily sTibside ; from the tone ol" the letter 
lie felt, that Russell waa deeply ofleiideii. 
Jn the whole conrse of his Hfc, he had de- 
[leiided on Russell' t> tViendshiji, us a solid 
blessJDg, of which he could never he tlo- 
prised by any change of ciicn instances — hy 
any possible chance in human affairs ; and 
tioiv, to have lost such a friend hy his own 
folly, hy his owu weakness, was a misfor- 
tune, of which he could hardly believe the 
feality. At the same moment, too, he 
learned how nobly Russell had behaved to- 
wards liim in the most trying situation in 
which the human heart can be placed. 
Russell's love for Selina Sidney Vivian had 
never till this instant snspectcd. " Whiit 
force, what command of mind ! — Wliat 
m^nanimity ! — What a generous filend he 

has ever been to me ! ■ — and I " 

, Poor Vivian, always sinning and always 
jKuitent, was so much absorbed by sorrow, 
for the loss of Hnssell's friendship, that he 
' tould not, for some time, think even of the 
interests of his love, or consider the advan- 
,tage, which hejnight derive from the absence 
of his rival, and from that rival's explicit de- 




L 



!i70 VIVIAN, 

elaration, that his a0eL-tious were irreToa^^- 
engaged. By degrees, these ideas roso 
clearly to Vivian's view ; his hopes revived. 
Lady Julia woiUd sco the ahsolnte impoasiii 
hility of Russell's returning, or of his ac- 
cepting her afection ; her good sense, he« 
pride, would in time suhdue this hopeh 
passion ; and Vivian was generous euonghj 
or sufficiently in love, to feel, that the valud 
of her heart would iiot lie diminished, bo^ 
rather increased, in his opinion, by the sea* 
sibility she had shown to the talents ai 
virtues of his friend. — His friend, Vivia^ 
ventured now to call hira ; for, with tLc 
hopes of love, the hopes of friendslup 

" All may yet be well! " said he to bii 
self. " Russell will forgive me, when 
hears how I was worked upon by those pw 
rasites ;md prudish bBsybodies, who infiised 
their vile suspicions into my mind ; — weali) 
as it is, 1 will never allow, that it is incapa^ 
hie of confidence or of friendship. — No^ 
Russell will retract that harsh sentenccl 
Wheu he is happy, as, I am sure, 1 ardenthfj! 
hope he wilt be, in. Selina's love, he nU| 
Fcstore me to hts favouc. — Without buf 



fiicndsbip, I conld not be satis6cd nith my- 
self, or happy in the foil accomplUhmeot 
of all my other fondest ho]ies." 

By the tmie that hope had thus revived 
and renovated our hero's soid ; liy the time, 
that his views of things had totally changed, 
and that the colon r of his fiiture destinv had 
ttuued from black to white — from all 
^loom, to all sunshine ; tlie mirmtu hand of 
the clock had moved with Tinfeeling regn- 
larity, or, in plain, unroeasnred prose, it was 
Dftw eleven o'clock, and three times Vivian 
had been warned, that breakfust was ready. 
—When he entered the room, the first 
thing he heard, as nsual, was miss Bateman's 
Voice, who was declaiming npon some sen- 
timental point, all in " the h^h sublime of 
deep absurd." — Viviiin, little interested in 
this display, and joining neither in the open 
flattery nor in tlie secret ridJcnle, with which 
the gentlemen Mits and aniatem's listened to 
the Rosamunda, looked round for lady 
Joiia. — " She breakfasts in her own room, 
this morning," whispered lord Glistonhuri-, 
before Vivian had even pronotmccd her lady- 
ship's nftme. 



278 VIVIAN. 

"So!" said Mr. Pickering, "we ba^-ff 
lost Mr. Russell this itiorning I " 

" Yes," said lord Glistonhnrv, " he 
forced to harry awiiy to the north, I find,' 
to an old sick uncle." 

" Lord Lidhurst, I'm afraid, will break 
bis heart tor want of him," cried the lawyer, 
in a tone, that might pass either for earnest, 
or irony, according to the fancy of the in-' 
terpreter. 

" Lord Lidhnrst, did yoti say r " cried the' 

c^tain " Are you sure you meant lordi 

LidhursL ? I don't apprehend, that a young 
nobleman ever broke his heart after hia 
tutor. But I was going to remark " 

What farther the captain was going to 
remark can never be known to the world j 
for lord Glistoubury so startled iiim by the 
loud, and rather angi-y tone, in which he 
called for the cream, which stood with the 
captain, that all his few ideas were put to 
flight. Mr. Pickering, who noticed lord 
Glistonbury's displeasure, now resumed the 
conversation about Mr. Russell in a new 
tone; aad the lawyer and he joined in a 
eulogy upon that gentleman. Lord Glistou- 



VIVIAN. 279 

bnry said not a word» but looked embar- 
rassed. Miss Strictland cleared ber throat 
several times, and looked intiiiitcly more 
rigid and mysterious tbau \isnal. Lady 
Glistonbury and lady Sarah, ditto — ditto. 
Almost every body, except such visitors as 
were strangers at the castle, perceived, that 
there was something extraordinary going 
on in the family ; and the gloom and con- 
straint spread so, that, towards the close of 
'jieakfast, nothing was uttered by prudent 
people, but awkward sentences abont the 
Weather — the wind — and the likelihood 
of there being a mail from the continent. 
Still, through all this, regardless and un- 
knowing of it all, the Rosainunda talked on, 
liappily abstracted, egotistically secured from 
the pains of sympathy, or of curiosity, by 
the sJl-sufficient power of vanity. , Eveu 
her patron, lord GUstonbury, was at last 
provoked and disgusted. He was beard, 
under his breath, to ]n-ononnce a contemptu- 
ous Pshaw 1 and, as he rose from the brcidci 
fast table, he whispered to Vivian — 

" There's a woman^ now, who thinks of no- 
thingliving bnt herself!.— All talkee talkie I 
jia|9-be "weaTyiOfJier.,— r-7-Crt-ntk-; 



r 



T^^ 

480' VIVIAN. 

Bjen," tontmued his lordship, " IVe lettera( 

to write tliis moniiug. Yoal! ride—* 

you'll walk — you're for the biUiard-rooiDj I' 

suppose. Mr. Vivian, I shall fjod yotlr 

LD my study, I hope, an hour hente ; buty- 

first, I have a little busiuess to aettle .*■ 

With evident emharraasment, lord GHston*. 
bury retired. Lady Glistoiibnry, lady Sarah, 
and luiss Strictland, each sighed, then, witb- 
lo<^i5 ot" intelligence, rose and retired. Thtf 
company separated soon after wai-ds, andp. 
went to ride, to walk, or to the billiard-' 
room, and Vivian to the study, to w;iit theroi 
for lord Glistoiibory, and to meditate upo^ 
what might be the nature of his lordshij/S 
business. As Vivian crossed the gallerv» 
the door of lady Glistonbury's dressiug- 
rootn opened, and wiis ttbut again instauta-: 
neously by miss Strictland ; but not before 
he saw lady Jnlia kneeling at her father's 
feet, whilst lady Glistonbury and lady Sarab 
were standing, like statues, on each side of' 
his lordship. Vivian waited a fiill honr- 
afterwards, in tedious suspense in the study. 
At last, be heard doors open and footsteps, 
and he judged that the femily council had 
broken np ; be laid do^ra a hooky of wjiich^^ 



VIVIAN. 5!8 

liad read the same page w»r sU tiioes 
Without auy one of tUts words it ron- 
tained haviiig conveyed a siiigU; idea to 
ilis Blind. Lord Gliatoubury cajne in, wItU 
l^aper; aud imrcliuieuts in bis bauds. 

" IVJr. Viviai), I luii uiViud you liHve beea 
■^siutiHg for me — I have a thousand par- 
cloas to ask — I rctdly could not cudic any 
saoner --^ I wisbed to sjwak to you — Woa't 
■>eu sit down? — We brtd bettur ^^it dowu 

cjijietly — Tlicre'a uo soit of burry ." 

Uta loidbbip, bowevtfr, secmtid to be in 
^eat agitatixm of spirits ; and Vivian waa 
convioced, tbat bis miod must be interested 
in an extraordinary loanjovr, because he did 
-not, as was his nsual practice, digress to 
fifty impertinent episodes before be came to 
the point. He only blew his nose Eundry 
times ; and tben at once said — - 

" I wiib to speak to you, Mr. Vivian, 
about tke proposal you did nie tlie lieaonr 
to make for my dangbtar Julia. Mr. Main- 
wariog, my lawyer, tells lue, that you pit 
yom rent roll and tbese piipers into bi^ 
kuids. Every thing very biindsome on 
your part — But ditKculties have occurred 
on om"s — verj' extraordinary dithcidties — 



n 



IF- 



VIVIAN. 
Julia, 1 unilerstand, has hinted to yon, 'sir, 

the nature of those difticulties Ob! Mr:- 

Vivian," said lord Glistonbury, suddenly^ 
quitting the constrained Toice iu which hi# 
s])oke, and gi^■ing way to his natural feeHi 
ings — " YoQ are a man of hononr and 
feeling, and a father may trast you!—' 
Here's my girl ! — a charming girl she is j> 
hut knowing nothing of the world, self- 
willed, romantic, open hearted, impmdenl 
beyond conception — Do not listen to any* 
of the foolish things she says to yoa, 
You are a man of sense ; yoa love her ; aoi^ 
you are every way suited to her — it is thai 
first wish of my heart, I tell you frankly, 
see her your wife — Then do not let hen 
childish folly persuade you, that her affecA 
tioos are engaged — doo't listen to any sucfat 
stuff — We all know what the first loves a$ 
i^ girl of sixteen must be — But it's our 

fault my fault, my fault, since thejl 

will have it so I care not whose faull 

it is ; but we have had very improper peoph 
about her — very I — very! — But all in^ 
be well yet, if you, sir, will be steady, asd 
save her, save her from herself- 
farther suggest -" 



[ lann 




VIVIAN. j,s;j 

Lord Glistonbury was going rm, proljMbly, 
to have weakened, by aiiiplification, the ef- 
fect of what he had siiid, when lady Jalin 
entered the room ; and, advandnf^ with 
dignitied determination of manner said — 
" I have your commands, father, that I 

should see Mr, Vivian again — I obey ." 

" That is right — that is my darling Jn- 
Ua ; I always knew she would justify my 
bigh opinion of her." Lord (ilistonbiiry at- 
tempted to draw her towards him, fondly; 
bnt, with an miiiltered manner, tliat seemed 
"^As if she suppressed strong emotion, she an- 
swered — 

" I do not deserve your caresses, father; 
do not oppress me with praise, that I can- 
not merit— — I wish to speak to Mr. Vi- 
Tian without control, and without wit- 
ness." 

Lord Glistonbury rose ; and, growing red, 
and almost inarticulate with anger, ex- 
claimed — 

" Remember, Julia! Remember, lady 
Julia Lidimrst! that, if you say what you 
said you would say, and what I said you 
should not say — I — lord Glistonbury, your 
father— I, as well as all the rest of your fa- 



** I am well aware «f tkat," re^jied 

Julia, growing (i>iitG pule, yet nil 
changing tlie tletennioatiun of her cp' 
nance, or abating any thing from the 
nity of her manner — " I am well a' 
that, on what 1 am about to do, def 
my having, or my ceasing from this mo 
to have, fortane, friends, aud a falser — 

Lord Glistonbuiy stood still for a 
Dient, fixing his eyes upon her, as : 
wDuM have read her soul ; but, wil 
seeking to elude IiIb inquiry, her co 
nance seemed to ofier itaelf to his pen 
tion. 

" By Heaven 1 there is no understai 
this girl!" cried his lordship. "Mr 
rian. I tniRt lip.r to vmir boiioiir — la 



IVIAK. 285 

anrf looking at Vivian, so as to Mop him 
?liorf as lie upi)roached, ftnd to disconcert 
lilni in the commencement of a passionate 
speech — "And I, too, sir, ttnst to your 
honour, whilst ! deprecate yrmr love. — Im- 
Itradentas I tras, in the fivst coiiMeiice I 
reposed in jtni, and niucli iis I have ?uf- 
ferefl by y6or rashness, I now stand deter- 
termined to reveal to you another, yet more 
important, yet more humiliatinj* secret' — 
Yoo owe nie no gralitt«fc, sir! — I am com- 
JftUed, hy the circnmBtauces in which I trni 
placed, cither to deceive of to trnst you. I 
must either Iiecome your wife, and deceive 
you most trciichcrously -, or 1 must trust 
yoa tfttirely, and tell yon why it wonltl bfe 
ihaincftil, that I should become yonr wife— ^ 
slianieftil to me and to yon." 

" To meJ^Impossible!" cried Vivian, 
bursting into some passionute expressions of 
love »frd admiration. 

'* Listftfl to me, sir ; and do not make me 
Rny of these rash professions, of which you 
*iH«oon repent. Yoii thiftk yoO ate speaking 
to the s.ime lady Jtllivi, you saw yislerday — 
■Ko!— yon art! speaking to a \-ery different 
A few hoars have mfldc a terrible 



1 

J 



cliangc. — You see before you, sir, 
who has been, till this day, the darling 
pride of her father ; ^vho has lived in th 
lap of luxury ; who has been flattered, ad 
mired, by almost all who approached her* 
who had fortune, and rank, and fail 
prospects in life; and yontli, and spiriti 
and all the pride of prosperity ; w,ho had^ 
believe, good dispositions, perhaps some t 
lents, and, 1 may say, a generous hear 

who might have been but that is a 

over — no matter what she might hai 
been — she is '■ 

' A tale Tor ev'ry prating slip.' 

Fallen 1— fallen! — fallen under the feet < 
those, who worshipped her! — fallen bcli* 
the contempt of the contemptible 1 
Worse! — worse! — fallen in her own 
nion — never to rise again ." 

Latly Julia's voice failed, and she wi 
iorced to pause. She sunk upon a s 
and hid her face — for some moments 
neither saw nor heard ; but at last, raisii 
her head, she perceived Viviai 

" Yon are in amazement, sir! — and 
see you pity me, — but let me beg of yon 



1 



VIVIAN. as? 

restrain yoar feelings — my own are as 
niQcb as 1 can bear. Oh t tb:it 1 could re- 
Cal a feiT hours of my existence ! — Bnt 1 
have not yet been able to teU you what bas 
passed — My father, my friends, wish to 
conceal it from yon : hut, whatever I have 
done, however low I have sunk, I will not 
deceive, or he an at-complice in deceit. 
From ray own lips you shall hear all. This 
morning, at day-break, not being able to 
sleep, and having some suspicion, that Mr. 
Russell ^vould leave tlie castle, I rose, and, 
whilst 1 was dressing, I heard the tramp- 
ling of horses in the court. I looked out of 
my window, and saw Mr. Russell's mau 
saddling his master's horse. I heard Mr. 
Russell, a moment afterwards, order file 
servant to take the horses to the great gate, 
on the north road, and wait for him there, 
as he intended to walk through the park. 
I thought these were the last words I should - 
ever hear him speak — Love took possession 
of me — I stole softly down the little stair- 
case, that leads from iny turret to one of tlie 
back doors, and got out of tlie castle, as I 
thought, unobserved : I hurried on, and 
wwted in the great oak wood, through 



SS8 V 1 V I A N. 

wbich I knew Mr. Rii%scll wfinld pas* 
When I saw liim coming nearer and near* 
to me, I Tponld have given the world I 
hare teen in my bxvn room again — I hij 
Myself among the trees -^Ytt, when h4 
walked on in reverit', witTiont noticing me, 
taking me, jirobably, for one of the servantsj 
I conhl not bear to think, that this was thij 
last moment I should ever see him, and t. 
txclaimcd — I know not what — But I 
know, that, at the scnind of my voice, Mr.' 
Rtrssell started, and, -never t-an 1 forget thi' 

look Spftre me the rest! Not-^I 

will not Spafe mysi'lf — ^I oiffefcd mf 
heart, my hand,— and they werfe te- 
ject«d ! ^-^- In my madness, I told hiiti, 
I fegartled neither wealth, nor rank, not 

friends, rtor That I would rather live 

with liiffl, ift obsriTrity, than be tlic greatest 

prrnccss Upon Earth 1 said this and , 

rtiofe — and 1 teas refected And, extti 

ttt this lOoTtiient, iftstead of the iHndictiVe 
passions, which are said to till the sonl of a 
woman scotned, t feel admiration for Voui- 
iloblc friend ; I have not done liim justice; 
1 cannot repeat his M'ords, or describo his 
jnatmer. He j>ers\iaded — by his eloquence. 



VIVIAN. 289 

romjKlIed mc to retnro to this castle. He 
1 t(K>k from me all hopej lie destroyed, liy 
one word, eiII my illusions — he told me, 
that he io^-es iinotlicr. He has left me 
to despuir — to disgrace; and yet, I love, 
esteem, and adnitrc him, above all human 
Ijeings ! — Admire one, who desjiiscs me ! — 
Is it possilile? — I know not — but it is 

so. 1 have mora to ttll you, sir! — 

As 1 returned to the cattle, I was watched 
by miss Striclland, How she knew all that 
bad passed, I cannot divine ; perbajjs it waa 
li»y means of some spy, who followed me, and 
Iwhom I did not perceive ; for 1 neither saw 
^ -nor heard any thing but my passion. Miss 
Strictland communicated her discovery im- 
mediately to my fatlier. i have been these 
last two Tiours before a family tribunal. — 
My mother, with a coldness a thousand 
times worse than my poor father's rage, 
says, that 1 have only accomplished her 
prophecies ; that she always knew and told 
f father, that I should he a disgrace to my 
•family. — But, no reproaches are equal to . 
my own; I stand .self-condemned — I fe^l 
like one awidiened from a dream. ^ A few 
Is! — a single look from Mr, I 



r 



vgW) VIVIAN. 

how they have altered all niv Tieivs, all m 

ihoiightsl — Two hours' reflection Tiro 

hoQi's, did I say?— whole yeafs — a whole «■ 
istence — ha'\'e passed to me in the last tno 
htmrs — I Bin a difltrent oeature. — Bot it K 
too late — too latet — Self-esteem is gone!— 
happiuess is over, for me, in this world 1—" 

" Happiness over for yon!" exclnitiKii 
Vivian, in a tone expressive, of the deep in- 
terest he felt for lady Julta. — Self-esteeBi 
'gone ! — No ! lady Julia ; do not blame yow- 
self so severely for what has passed! — Blame 
the circnmstances, in ivhich yon have been 
placed ; blaine the neglect, the perversity ot 
others; above all, blame me — bUme my 
folly — my madness ; yo\ir secret never wonW 
have been known, if I had not ." 

" I thank you," interrupted lady Julia- 
rising from her seat; " biit no consolation 
CRT! be of any avail. It neither consoles 
nor jnstifieB me, that others have bera to 
blame." 

" Permit me, at least," pnrsued Virian, 
*' to epeak of my own sentiments for one 
moment. Permit me to say, lady Jnlia, 
that the confidence, with which yon hate 
just honoured me, instead of dimimBbtsg 



VIVIAN. 291 

iaj attachment, has so raised my admiration . 
ioF voor caudoar aiid inagii^iiuiity, diat no 
ol»tacles sltall vanquish my roostancy. — I 
■jrill wait resi»ef tfiiUy, -iiid, if I can, pati- 
■*otly, till time shall have effaced I'rom your 
/uiad thet>e painful impressions ; I ^hall 
jieitberask nor accept of tlie interrereiicu or 
joflaeuce of your father, or of any of your 
^ends ; I sliJiU rely solely on Uie operation 
f your own excellcHt umlcrxtandiug; ami 
■liaU hope for luy rctviud froiri your nobl« 
jteart." 

" You do not think it possihie" — said lady 
'ulia, looking at Vivian with dignitied detcr- 
oination— '' Yon do not think it possible, 
^aiterall that hax passed, after all tlutt J iiavi; 
told you, that I could so far degrade myself or 
^'ou, as to entertain any thoughtfi of b^com- 
jng youTwife? I spoke to you,as I have done, 
sir, in the lirst place, to save you from the 
misery of a vain attachment — I know wIkU 
that is ; I therefore wish to ])revent otherfi 
,fram feeling it. But I bad another motive, 
^'hich regarded myself more than you. I 
.confess I wished that Mr. IlusseH's friend 
should not utterly despise me — should not 
ink of uie merely as a i-omantic, silly, per- 



Xet- 




S9» VIVIAN. 

haps forn'ard girl. It has been my nilsfor- 
trnie, tliat the very desire I felt to improve 
myself; the best dispositions of my heart; 
the perception of ^vhat was excellent; the 
enthusiasm for all that was wise and good", 
from the circnmstancea in which I was 
placed, and from the errours of my ednca- 
tion, operated against me — decided and ac- 
celerated my ruin Huin?^Yes! is it 

not ruin for a young woman, like me, of a no- 
ble family, of high hopes — beloved, respected 

as I was 1 cannot bear to think of it. 

Farewel ! Mr. Vivian, You will not see 

me again. — I shall obtain permission to 
retire, to live with ii relation in a distant 
part of the country i where I shall no more 
be seen or heard of. My fortune will, I 

hope, be of nse to my sister. ^My poor 

father ! — I pity him ; he loves me : be loses 
his daughter for ever; worse than loses her! 

My mother, too — I pity herl for, though 

she does not love me, she will suffer for me; 
she will suffer more even than my father^ j 
by the disgrace that would be brought upottd 
ray family, if ever the secret should be f 

licly known My brother! — Oh! my I 

loved brother! he knows nothing yet of' i 



V I V I A N. 'Ji\> 

this ! — But \«-hy do I grieve yon with my 
agony of mind? Forget that lady Julia 
Lidhnrst ever existed! — I wish von that 
happiness^ which I can never enjoy — I wish 
yon may deserve and win a heart capable 
of feeling real love ! — ^Adieu ! " 



( 




€HAFPER XI & Xa. 



Convinced that all farther pursuit 
lady Julia Lidharst would be vain, that i 
could tt;nd only to increase her diflicultie 
aud his niortiBcation, Vivian saw, that tb 
hest thing he conld posaihly do waS to leaw 
Glistonbury. Thus he should relieve till 
whole family from the emban-assment of hi 
presence ; iindj by immediate change i 
scene and of occupation, he had the bes 
chance of recoveringfrora his own disappoint 
ment. If lady Julia was to quit the castle, 
he could have no inducement to stay ; 
her ladyship remained, bis continuing ii 
her society would be still more dangerouj 
to his happiness. Besides, he felt ofiendet 
with lord Glistonbury, who evidently hae 
wished to conceal from him the truth ; and 
without considering what was just or ho- 
nourable, had endeavoured to seeurcj at al 
events, an establishment for his daughter, 
and a connexion for his family. To ths 



VIVIAN. JiW 

w^igkt of thebe reasons must lie uilded a 
desire to see Mr. Rass«Il, and to effect a re- 
conciliation with hiin. The accnumlated 
force of all these motives had power to over- 
come Viviiko's habitnaJ indecision ; bis ser- 
vant was surprised by an order to bam 
every tbin^ ready for his jonmey to toirn 
icmnediately. Whilst his man prepared to 
ohey, or at least to meditate npon the canse 
of tbi» unnsnally decided order, our hero 
-went in quest of lord Glistonbnry, to pay hiH 
oomplimcnts to his lordship previous to lti> 
departure. His lordship was in bis darif^h- 
te^ Julia's dressing-room, and cmild oot 
be seen: bat presently he came to ViviaH, 
in great hurry and disti-css of mind. 

"A sad stroke upon us, Mr. Vivian! — a 
sad stroke upon ns all I — but most npon me; 

for she was the child of my expectations 

1 hear she has told you every thing — Yon, 

also, have been very ill used Never was 

astonishment equal to mine, when I heard 
miss Strictland's story 1 need not cau- 
tion you, Mr, Vivian, as to secresy ; yon are a 
man of honour, and you see the peace of 
oor whole family is at stake — The girl is 
goin£ to a relation of ours in Devonshire. 



■ sg6 VIVIAN. 

Shan't stay here — shan't stay here 

Disgrace to my family She who was my 

pride — am!, after all, says she will never 

uiarry ; Very well ! — very well ! 1* 

shall never see her agEiin, that I am deter- 
mined «])on. 1 told her, that, if she did 

not behave witli common sense and pro- 
priety, in lier hist interview with you, I 
would give her up — and so I will, and so I 

do The whole is lady filistoDbnrJ'sr 

fault — She never managed her rig'btly/ 
when she was a child — Oh ! I should put 
you on your guard in one particular — inissi 
Bateman knows nothing of what has hap- 
pened — I wish miss Strictland knew as ' 
little — I hate her. — What business had she' 
to play the spy upon my daughter? — She' 
does well to be a ]irude, for she is as ugly-' 
as sin. — Bnt we are in her power. — She is 
to so to morrow with Jnlia to Devonshire. — 
It will make a (]uarrel between me and miss; 
Bateman — no matter for that ; for now, the.* 
sooner we get rid of that Rosamunda, too» 
the better — She talks me dead, and will let 
no one talk hut herself. — And, between yoa 
and me, all this could not have happened, if" 
she had looked after her charge prQi>erly,- 






VIVIAN. 297 

I Not bat what I think miss Strictland was 

Btill less fit to guide a girl of Julia's genius 

and disposition. — All was done wrong at 

first, and I always said so to lady Gliston- 

bnry. But, if the secret can be kept — 

and that depends on you, my dear friend — 

after six months' or a twelvemonth's rustt- 

■ cation with our poor- parson iu the country, 

i you will see how tamed and docile the girl 

will come back to ns. This is my 

scheme; but nobody shall know ray whole 
mind but you. — 1 shall tell her, I will never 
see her again ; and that will pacify lady 
Glistonhury, and frighten Julia into siib- 

L mission. — She says, she'll never marry. 

^tuff! Stuff!— You don't believe her! 

Khat man, who has seen any thing of the 

f Avorld, ever believes such stuff! " 

Vivian's servant came into the room, 
ask his master some question about 
torses. 

Going ! — where ? Going ! — when? 
Going • — how?" cried lord Glistonlmry, as 
*00» ^^ *^ servant withdrew. " Snrcly you 
^re nft going to leave us, Mr. Vivian ? " 

Vivi^-H explained his reasons— Lord GU&- 

ztalfory 'Coi'M not allow tUein. axx^ 'Nfcv^^'^y.*' 

o ii 



*Ǥ* VIVIAN, 

erttfeated ami insisted, that he should stay d 
least a te* dars longer ; forhis going "jost 
this ftiomeiit would seem qtiite like a bri 
nji In the ffimily, and wonhl he the lUO* 
onfriendly nnd crael thing imagmahle;^ 
Why lord Glistonhiiry ao earneatly pressfttl 
his sttiy, ]wrhaps, even his lordship Wms^ 
did riot e^tactly know ; ^or, M-ith all the i 
of being n person of infinite addi-esa ai 
depth of design, hia lordship was in reali^ 
childishly inconsistent; what the Frencft 
call hicoVise'gtient. On any sithject, grt 
or sipall, where he once took it into 1 
bead, or, as he called it, mnde it a poini, 
that A thing should be so ot so, M 
was as peremptory, or, -where he cotHA 
not hfe peremptory, as anxions, as if 
were a ttiiilter of life and death. Iff 
bis views, there was no perspectii^e, no 
keeping — all objects appeared of etjual mag*» 
nitiide; and even now, when it might bl 
conceived, that his whole mind was intent 
npon a great family misfortune, he, in thK 
course of a few minutes, betanre as eftgtiP 
■ about a mere trifle, as if he had nothing elarf 
I in tire world to think of. From the ear- 
I aestness with which lord Olistonbiiry nrgetf 



him to stay a f<pw days, at least one day 
loi^«r, Vivian was induced tu believe, tliat 
it must he a matter ot real coiiscqueDce ta l 
his lordship—'* And, in his present state of • 
distress, 1 canuot refuse such a request,"— r 
thought Vivian, He yielded, therefore, ta 
these soiieitations, and consented to iitiiy a 
few days longer: thoufi;h be knew the pro- 
loitgiug his visit would be, in every respect, 
disagreenble. 

At dinner, lord Glistonbury announced 
to tJie company, that the physicians had 
ad\'ised change of air imiitediutely for lord 
Lidbnrat', and that, in consequence, his 
son would set out early the next morniug for 
Devonshire — that his daughter Julia wished' 
to go with hei' brother, and that miss Strict- 
loud would accompany tbem. Lord Glis- 
toabury apologized for his daughter's ah- 
sefice, '' preparations for her journey, so sud- 
denly decided upon," &,c. Lady Gliston- 
bury and lady Siuah looked terribly grim 
wkilst ail this was saying, but the gravity 
and stiflihe^s of their demeanour did not ap- 
pear any thing extraordinary to the greater 
part of the company, who had no idea of 
what was going forward. The lawyer, the 



captain, and the chaplaio, however, inters 
changed siguiBcant looks ; <uid many timea 
daring tbe course of-lhe evening, they madi 
attempts to draw out Vivian's thongbtsj hxx$ 
they found hiiu impenetrable. There wai 
iin underplot of a (juarrt'l between misi 
Stiictliind and luiss Batemau, to which Vi-* 
vian paid little attention ; nor was he aP^. 
fected, in the slightest degree, by the Rosa^. 
iDunda's declaration to lord Gli&tonbuiyir 
that she mnst leave his family, since shft: 
funnd, that miss Strictland had a largee 
share than herself of liis lordsliip's conj 
dence, and was, for what reason she conU. 
not divine, to have the honour of accom- 
panying tady Julia into Devonshire. Viviau 
perceived these quarrek, and heard the (ri^ 
volous conversation of the company at Gli 
tonbary Castle, without interest, aodwith a 
sort of astonishment at the small motives hjt 
which others were agitated, whilst his who! 
sou! was engrossed by love and pity for lady} 
Jalia. In vain he hoped for another oppoi^ 
tonity of seeing and speaking to her. Sh« 
never appeared. The next morning he ros 
at day-break, that he might have a cJiancfg^ 
of seeing her : he begged Miss Strictland 



^^^m VIVIAN. 30 1 

■to entreat her ladyship would altow him to 
I^Ky a feiv words before she set out ; but 
aass Strictland replied, that she was assured 
the request \\'ould be vuin ; aud he thought 
he perceived, that miss Strictland, though 
ibe affected to lament lady Julia's bliudness 
;o her own interests and contumacy, iu op- 

ising her father's wishes, was, in reality, 
jlad, that she persisted in her own determi- 

,tion. Lord Lidhurst, on account of the 
(Teak state of his health, was kept in igno- 

iQte of every thing, that could agitate him ;. 

id, when Vrv'ian took leave of him, the 

aor young man left many messages oS 

induess and gratitude for Mr. Ruhsell, — 
" I aui Sony, that be was obi iged to itnye 

;e; for,, ill oc WeU, there is no human 
being, 1 will not except any one, but my 

ister Julia, whom I should no much wish 
^ have with me. — Tell him so; and tell 
1 — be sure you remember my very wordil, 
iar perhaps I shall never see him again — 
Tell hina, that, living or dying, I eliail leel 
grateful to him. He has given me tiiutett 
and principles very difierent from those 1 
bad when he came into this house. — Even 
in sickaesa, I feel almost every hout the od- 



^ 



SOS VIVIAN. 

vantage of my present love for literatore. — ' ■ 
If I sbonid live and recowr, I ho]>e I shull-i 
do faim Bofuo credit; and I trust my familyi 
will join in my gratitude. — Julia, my dean 
lister 1 why do you weep so bitterly ? — If 1 1 
had seen yoii come into the room, 1 would* 
not have spoken of my health — but is it not , 
better, at all events, to use no disguise, aud- 
io say the whole truth to onr best friends. — ■■ 
But I wi!l not, since I see you cauuot beat 
it ." 

Lor<l Glistonbury came up to tell thera> ■ 
that miss Strictland was ready. " Mr. Vi- 
Tian," cried his lordship, "will you hand 
Julia into the carriage ? Julia, Mr. Vi- 
vian is offering you bis services. Lid- 
hurst, have you the key of the great 
trank?" 

Vivian, as he attended lady Julia, had sri . 
mach respect for her feelings, that» thougli 
he had been waiting with extreme impa- 
tience for an opportunity to saff a Jew 
Kwds, yet now be wonld not speak, but 
handed her aloog the gidlery, down the 
staircase, and across the great hall, in pro- ■ 
found silence. — She seemed sensilde of this 
foibearance : and, turning to bim at a mo- 



VIVIAN. 305 

, Hieot when the.y could not be overlteard, 
•aid, " It was not irora nnkiodness, Mr. 
VivUn, I refiised to see too agaio, bnt to 
convince yon, that my mind is detertnined 
— If yon have any thing to say, 1 am ready 
to bear it." 

" Is there nothing to be hoped fron* 
time?" — said Vivian — " Yoar father, I 

know, has hopes, that All 1 ask, is that 

yon irill not make any rash reBoliirions." 

" I make none — bnt I tell i/tm, for yoor 
own sake, not to cherish any vain hope. — 
My father does not know my mind (■nffi- 
ciently, therefore be may deceive you; but 

I will not. 1 thonght, after the manner 

in which I spoke to yon yesterday, yon 
would have had too much Etrength of mind 
to have rendered this repetition of my sen- 
timents necessary. Attach yourself else- 
where, as soon as yoii can. — I sincerely wish 
yonr hairiness. — Miss Strictland is waiting. 
— Farewell" i 
She hurried forward to the carriage ; and,' 
when she was gone, Vivian rejieated that h*. 
had seen her afjain, as it had only giv«* 
them both additional and fruitless pain. •' 
What passed, daring some SQcceeding 



, set VIVIAN. 

days, at Glistotihury Castle, be scarcely 
knew ; no trace remained in his mind of 
any thing, but the confused noise of people, 
who hail been talking, laughing, and divert- 
ing themselves i« a manner, that seemed to- 1 
him incomprehensible. He exerted him- 
self, however, so far as to write to Russell ;_ 
to implore bis foigiveness, and to solicit 8. 
rettyu of bis friendship, which, in his pie^ 
sent state of unhappitiess, was more neces- 
sary to liim than ever. When be had 
Enisbed and dispatched tliis letter, he .sunk 
again into a sort of reckless ^tate, witbout 
hope or determination, as to his future life. 
He could not decide, whether he should ga 
to his mother immediately on leaving Glig- 
tonbury, or to Mr. Rassell, or (which be 
knew was the best conrse he could pnrsue)[ 
attend bis duty in parliament; aad» by 
plunging at once into public business, 
change the course of his thoughts, and force 
his mind to resume it's energy. After 
altering his determination twenty times^ 
after giving at least a dozen contradictory 
orders aliout his journey, his servant at last 
bad his ultimatum j for London — tbe car- 
riiige to be at tbe door at ten o'clock tbe 



VIVIAN. 305 

next morning. Every thing was ready at 
the appointed hoar — Breakfast over, Vivian 
waited only to pay his tonipliinents to latiy 
Glistonbury, who had breakfasted iu her 
own apartment. Lady Sarali, with a man- 
ner as formal as usual, rose from the break- 
fast-table, and said she woniri let her mo- 
ther know, that Mr. Vivian was going. 
Vivian waited half au hour — an hour — • 
two hours. Lady Glistonbury did not ap- 
pear, nor did lady Sarah return. The com- 
pany had dispersed after the first half honr. 
Lord Glistonbury began to believe, that the 
ladies did not mean to make their appear- 
ance. At length a message came from 
lady Glistonbury. — " Lady Glistonbury's 
compliments to Mr. Vivian, her ladyship 
was concerned that it was out of her power 
to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Vivian, 
as she was too much indisposed to leave her 
room. — She and lady Sarah wished him a 
very good journey — ." 

Vivian went up to his ruoui for his gloves, 
which he missed at the moment when he 
was going. Whilst he was opening the 
empty drawers, one after another, in search 
of the gloves, and, at the same time, calling 



30#' VIVIAN, 

hie servant to find tliem^ lie heard a lotui 
acrcam front an adjoining apartment. Ho 
Kstened again — all was sUent ; and he aaj)'- 
[K>3ecl, that what he had heard was not ai 
scream : but, at that moment, lady Sarah!* 
maid flung ogien hie dour, and, running iiE 
with outstretched arms, threw herself at 
Vivian's fcet. Hex so-bs and tears prevented 
his understanding one syllable she said. At 
last, she articulated intelligibly — 

" Oh, sir ! don't be so crael to g* — ■ 
my lady \ — my poor lady ! If ycm go, il| 
will kill lady Sarah I " 

" Kill lady Sarah ! — Why ! I saw heir i» 
perfect heakh this morning at breakfast l"' 

" Dear, dear air 1 yoe know nothing o£ 
the matter 1* said the maid, rising, and 
shotting- the door — '" Yoa don't kno«^ . 
■what a way she has been in ever since th» I 
talk of yoor going — fits spon 6ts ever^ I 
night, and my lady her mother and I np, \ 
holding her — and none in the house know-* I 
ing it but ourselves. — Very well at break- 
foat ! Loi-d help us 1 sir. — How little yo» | 
know of what slie has suffered ! — Lord hav» i 
mercy upon me ! I would not be a lady, to ] 
be so much in loTe^ and left so, for an^ J 



VIVIAN. 307' 

tfitiig^ in the whole lA-crkl. — And my Ia4]» 
Sarali' keeps every thing- sn to herself ;— if 
it was not Cor these fits, they wouU) neve# ' 
iave knowed she eared n& more i'or yoo j 
^ioi a stune." 

" And, probably, you are (jnito mistaken," ■ 
sfud Vivian ; " and that I have nothing- to 
do with the yonng lady's iihies3. If she 
has fits, I ani very sorry for it ; Imt I can't 

possibly- Certainly yon are tjnite mis- 

bkat! " 

" Lord, sir! — mistaken! As if I coHld 
be mistaken, when I know my lady as well 
as I' know myself 1 — Why, sir, I know from: 
the time of the election, when you was 
giren to her by all the country — ami *o bo 
nae when we all thmight it wonid be a 
ttaftch directly — and) the Lord knows wha* 
|nrt it off! — I say, from that time, h«r 
heart was set opou, yon. Though she -never- 
said a word to me, or any one, I knew how 
it wi», through all her coldness ; and, when 
sbe waa low, 1 knew always how to raas& 
lier, by praising of yon — And to be sure^ 
when yon Wits in Lon'on so moth with U8y 
all the town said, as all the coontvy did ! 
afore, that to be sore it was to be a match— '-1 



But then that sad affair, with that artfnllest 
of women, that took you off from all that 
was good, and away, the Lord knows where, 
to foreign parts ! — Well ! to be sure, I 
never shall forget the day you come back 
sgain to us ! — and the night of the ball ! — and 
you dancing with my lady, and all so 
happy ; then, to be sure, all were sarten it 

was to be immediately And now to go 

and break my poor lady's heart at the last! — 
Oh, sir! sir! if you could see her, it would 
touch a heart of marble \ '* 

Vivian's astonishment and dismay were 
9o great, that he suffered the girl, who was 
an unpractised creature, to go on speaking 
without interruption ; the warmth of affec- 
tion, with which she spoke of her lady, also 
surprised him ; for, till this instant, he had 
no idea, that auy one could love lady Saral^ 
Lidhurst ; and the accounts she gave of th^ 
lady's su0erings not only touched his coin-i 
passion, but worked upon his vanity. 
" This cold, proud young lady, that uevei" 
loved none before, to think," as her maiJ^ 
said, " that :jhc should come to such a pass^ 
as to be in fits iibout him. — And it was her 
belielj that lady Sarah never would recoi 



Pp vrviAN: 309 

if be weat away out of the rnstle tliis 
day." 

The ringing of a bell liad repeatedly been 
heard, whilst lady Sarah's maid was -peak- 
ing ; it now rang violently, and her name 
s called vehemently from tbe adjoining 

apartment. " I mnst go, I must go ! 

Oh, sir I one day, for mercy's sake ! stay one 
' day longer ! " 

Vivian, thongh he had been moved by ' 
this girl's representations, was determined 
to effect his retreat whilst it was yet in his 
power; therefore, be ran down stairs, and 
had gained the hall, wliere he was shaking 
hands with lord Glistoiiljnry, when my lady ' 
Glistonbury's own woman came in a great , 
hurry, to say, that her lady, finding herself , 
a little better now, and able to see Mr. | 
Vivian, begged he would be so good, as to 
walk up to her dressing-room. 1 

Vivian, with a heavy heart and slow steps, J 
obeyed : there was no refusing, no evading 
soch a request. He summoned all his reso- 
lution, at the same time saying to himself, 
as he followed his conductor along the gal- 
lery, " It is impossible, that I ran ever bie 
drawn in to marry lady Sarah. — This is a 



concerted plan, and I shall not be so Treaki 

as to be the dupe of so gross an artifice ." 

Ladv Glistonbui7's maid showed him into 
her hidy's dressing-room and retired, — Lady 
Gliatonbury was seat«d, and, withont sjieek- 
-ing, pointed to a chair, which was set oppo- 
-Mte to her — "So! a preparation for a 
flcene," tttoi^ht Vivian — He boned, but, 
still keeping his hat in his hand, did not sit 
down. " He was extremely happy to hear, 
itlmt her ladyship found herself something 
better- — much honoured by her permitting 
him to pay his respects, and to oSer his 
grateful acliiiowledgments to her hidyship, 
before his depaiture from Glistonbury." 

Her ladyship, still withont sjieaking, 
pointed to the cliair — Vivian sat down, and 
looked as if he had " screwed his conrage J 
to the sticking place," Lady Glistonbiu7,4 
had sometimes a little nei-vous trembUngof j 
her head, which was the only symptom of ] 
internal agitation, that was ever observable , 
in Iter ; it was now increased to a degree 1 
\^iiich Vivian had never before seen. 

" Are you in ha&te, sir, to be gone ?" s^4 

•lady Glistonbury. 

, "Notif her4adyi 



VIVIAN. 311 

^'oriiiin; but otherwise, he had intetided^if 
' possible^ to reach tciwn that night," 

*' I shuU BOt delay jon many miuntes, 
Mr. Vivian," said her ladysliip. " You 
-need not be under apprehension, that 
lady GUstoubnry should seek to detain yoii 
•loDger than yonr own incliuatiODS induce 
.you to stay: it- is, therefore, unnecessary to 
iasDh her Mith any appeanince of haste or 
impatience," 

Viviim iostaiitly hiid down his hat, and 
:pn>tested, " that he was not in the sl^htest 
^Asgr&: impatient ; — he should be very un- 
grateful, as well as \ery ill l>red, if, after the 
-Diast hospitaMc manner in which he had 
been received and entertained at Gliston- 
■ -bury CiiAtie, he could be in baste to qmt it. 
, -i*— Ifc WW eotirdy at her ladyship's or- 

LadyGlistonbury bowed formally — was 
again silent — the tremhling of her head 
very great — the rest of her form motion- 
less. . 

" I have sent for you, Mr. Vivian," said 
she, "that I might, before you leave this 
castle, set yon right on a suliject, which mueh 

L J 



ran VIVIAN, 

concerns me. From the representations ofr 
a foolish country girl, a maid servant of mjE 
(laughter lady Sarah Lid hurst's, which I hav» 
just discovered she has made to you, I had 
reason to fear, that yon might leave Gliston— 
bury with very false notions — ." 

A cry was heard at this moment from tliB. 
inner apartment, which made Vivian start y 
but lady Glistonbury, without noticing it^ 
M'ent on speaking. 

— " With notions very injurious to my-. 
daughter Sarah ; who, if I know any thingi-j 
of her, would rather, if it were so ordained, 
go out of this world, than condescend to 
any thing unhecomiiig her sex, her educa- 
tion, and her family." 

Vivian, struck with respect tind compas- 
sion for the mother, -who spoke to him ioj 
this manner, now was convinced, tliat thera, 
had been no concerted plan to work upon 
his mind, that the maid had spoken without 
ihe knowledge of her lady ; and, the more 
proudly solicitous lady Glistoiibury sliowed 
herself, to remove what she railed the false 
impression from his mind, the more he was t 
persuaded, that the girl had spoken tb^i 




VIVIAN. 313 

nth. He was much embarrfissed between 
J good nature ami his dread of becoming 
fc! sacrifice to his humanity. 

He i-eplicd, in generitl terms, to lady Glis- 
ptonburv, that he hiid the highest respect for 
rfcdy Sarah Lidhnrst, and that no opinion 
1 tejiirious to her could be entertained by 

' Respect, she must command from all," 
stud lady Glistonbary — " That, it is out of 
any man's power to refuse her; as to the 
rest, she leaves you, and I leave you, sir, to 
your, own 'conscience ," ,..)f 

Lady Glistonbury rose, and so did VaTiSfl 
— He " hoped, that iteither her UdysUip 

«or lady Sarah had any cause •;",- .He 

tiesitated; the wortls, to reproach.^: to cam- 
plain, to he displeased', all came to hi» lips,; 
but each seemed improper; and, noac other 
being at hand to convey his meatuD^,. he 
coutd not finish his seutent-e — so he began 
another, upon a new construction, with; — , 

" I should l)e much concerned, if, in ad- 
dition to all ray other causes of regret, in 
leaving Glistonbury Castle, I felt, that I 
had incurred lady Glistouhury's or lady Sa- 
rah's displea disapprobation." 

VOL. V. p 



91% VIVIAN. 
■" *' As to that, sir," said lady GHstonbtiry, 
" I cannot but have my own opinion of year 
conduct ; and you can scarcely expect, I 
apprehend, that a mother, such as I am, 
slionld not feel some disapprobation of con- 
duct, which has made her daughter 

so — — . In short, «ir, yon mast be sensi- 
ble of what all the world have said — and 
you are as fully aware, as I can be, of the 
disadvantage to a young lady of such re- 
ports ~ of the breaking off of such things 

Bat I am doomed, and trust 1 shall 

bear with resignation, to see the ruin of 
all my hopes — There is my only son dy- 
ing — I know we are to lose him — His 
sister, worse than dead — I always foresaw 
that — But my daughter Sarah ! — this I did 

not foresee Sir, 1 beg I may not detain i 

yon — I have the honour to wish you a good | 
journey, and much happiness ." 

An attendant came from an inner apart- 
ment with a message from lady Sarah, who I 
was worse, and wished to see her mo- 
ther " Immediately ! — tell her, imme* I 

diately ! " 

The servant retnToed with the answer, j 
Vivian was retiring, but he came 1 



^^^™ VIVIAN. 315 

H^ BOW, at that moment, a convulsive ino- 

Ipan contract lady filistonbury's face ; she 

made an effort to walk ; but, if Vivian had 

not supported her instantly, she mnat have 

&llen. — Slie endeavoured to diseivpage her- 

jUlf from his assistance, and aguiii itttempted 

■^walk. 

*' For God's sake! lean upon nie, ma- 
fem!" said Vivian, much ularmed. With 
s assistance, she readied the door of the 
berrooui; summoning all tiie retui'Ding 
(wers of life, she then withdrew' her arm 
jpimi bis, and, pointing back to the door at 
l^ich Vivian had entered, she said — 
" That is your way, sir." — 
*' Pardon me — I cannot go — I cannot 
ive yon at this moment," said Vivian. 
" This is my daughter's apartment, sir," 
said lady Glistonbury, stopping, and stand- 
ing still and fixed. Some of the attend- 
ants within, hearing her ladyship's voice, 
fipened the door ; lady- Glistonlmrv made 
an eflbrt to prevent it, bnt tn vain ; the 
chamber was darkened, but, as the door 
opened, the wind from an opeti window 
blew back the curtaiu, und some light fell 
i^n a canopy bed; where. lady Sarah lay 
P2 



90. VIVIAN. 

motionless, her eyes closed, and pale-afl 
death ; one attendant cliafing her temples, 
another nitjbing her feet : she looked np- 
just after the door opened, and, raising her 
head, she saw Vivian — A g:leinn of joy il- 
lamincd her conntenance, and coloured her 
cheek. 

"Sir," repeated iady Clistonbury, "this 

is my daughter's ." 

She could articulate no more. She fell 
across the threshold, struck with palsy. 
Her daughter sprang from the hed, and, 
with Vivian's assistance, raised and carried' 
lady G!i«tonbury to an arm-chair near the 
open window, drew back the curtain, heggedi 
Vivian to go for her father, and instantlyl 
lo dispatch a messenger for medical assisK 
mice — Vivian sent his own servant, wh« 
had his horse ready at the door, and he bit 
the man go as fast as he could. 

" Then you don't leave Glistonbnry ti 
day, sir?" said the seiTant. 

■ " Do as I order you — Where's lord Gits' 
m tonbury ? " 

■ His lordship, with the newspapers and 
I letters open in his hand, came up — but theiA 



VIVIAN. 317 

Tian communicated. His lordiship was na- 
turally humane and good natiired ; and the 
•hock was greater, perhaps, to him, from the 
sort of enmity in which he livpd with lady 
Glistonbury. ' 

" I dread to go up stairs," said he — 
" For God's sake ! Vivian, don't leave me 
in this distress ! — do order your carriage 
away! Put np Mr.Viviau's carriage," — 

Lady Sarah's maid came to tell them, 
that lady Glistonhnry had recovered her 
ipeech, and that slie had asked, " If Mr.Vi- 
▼ian was gone ? " 

" Do come ap with me," cried lord Glis- 
tonhnry, " and she will see you are not 
gone." 

"Oh I" cried the maid, as she looked 
ont of the staircase window — " There's his 
carriage going to the coach-house! — God 

bless him! Ay, do go in with my lord, 

sir, — better than all the pliTsicians ! -" 

" Here's my lord and Mr. Vivian, my 
lady," said the girl. 

Then, taming to lady Glistonbury'e 
woman, she added, in a loud whisper — 
" Mr, Vivian won't go to day." 



«|« VIVIAN; 

Lady Sarah gave her maid some commisi' 
flionj ivbicb took her out of the room. Lady 
Sarah, no longer the formal, cold, slow |>er-' 
sonage, whom Vivian detested, now sceined> 
to him, and not only seemed, but was, qnita 
B^ifiereat being, inspired with energy, and 
qnit'kness, and presence of mind ; she forgot 
herscit', and her illne3.><, and her prudery^ 
ami. her iove, and every other consideration^ 
in i^ie ?ense of her niotlier's danger. Lady 
UUhtonfanry had but imperfectly recovered 
her recollection. At one moment she smiled 
on Vivian, and triett to stretch out her 
kantl to him, as she saw him standing be- 
side lady Sarah. But when he approached 
ladv Gllstonbury, and spoke to her, she^ 
sremed to have some painful recollection, 
and, looking round the room, expressed sur- 
prise and uneasinegs at his being there, Vi- 
vian retired, and lord Gllstonbury, who was 
crying hte a child, followed, saying, " Take 

nrte oat with you — Doctor G ought 

to be here before now — I'll send for ano- 
ther physician ! — Very shocking — very 
shocking — at lady Glistonbury's time of 
life, too — for she is not sm old woiuau by 



L 



VIVIAN. 31S> 

■^ meaoa — Lady GHstoiihiiry is eighteen 
months yoUDger tl»an \ ma ! — Nobody, 
knows how hoon it may be tlicir own turn ! — . 
It's very shocking! — If 1 had knowo sho 
was ill, I wodld have had advice for her 
sooner. — She is very patieut — too patient 
— a great deal too patient. — She never will 
cMnplaiii — never tells what she feels, body 
or mind — at least never tells tne ; but that 
nay be my fault, in some measare. — Should 
be very sorry lady GUstonbury went out of 
the world with things as they are now hc" 
tweea ns — Hope to God she will get over 
this attack 1 — Hey I Mr. Vivian } " 

Vivian said whatever he could to fortify 
this hope, and was glad to see lord Gliston- 
bury show feelings of this sort. The phy- 
siciaD arrived, and confirmed these hopes 
by his favourable prognostics. In the conre^ 
of the day and night, her face, which had 
been contracted, resumed it's natural ap- 
pearance ; she recovered the nse of her arm; 
a certain difficulty of articulation, and 
thickness of speech, with what the physi- 
cian called hallucination of mind, and a>- 
general feebleness of body, were all the apr 
pareat consequences of this stroke. Sbe 



r 



M# VIVIAN. 

was not herself sensible of the nature of th# 
attack, or clear in licr ideas of any thing*, 
that had passed immediately previous to it.' 
She had only an imperfect recollection of 
her daughter's illness, and of some huiTjf, 
abont Mr. Vivian's going away. She wa^ 
however, well enough to go into her dress-- 
ing-rooni ; where Vivian went to pay hi* 
respects to her, with lord Glistonbnry. By 
nnremitting exertions, and iimisual cheer- 
fldness, lady Sarah succeeded in quietiii^ 
Jier mother's confnsed apprehensions ott 
her account. When ont of lady Glistoni 
bnry's hearing, all the attendants and th« 
physicians repeatedly expressed fear, that 
liidy Sarah wonid overfatigue and injnra.; 
herself by this extraordinary energy ; htrt 
her powers of body and mind seemed to risrf 
with the necessity for exertion ; and, oU 
this great occasion, she suddenly discovered 
a warmth and strength of charactei'.trf 
which no one had ever before discemecj, 
even the slightest symptoms. 

" Who wonld have expected this from • 
Sarah !" whispered lord GUstonlmry to Vi- 
vian. " Why! her sister did not do more 
forme, when I was ill ! — I always knew shf 



VIVIAN. 321 

loved her mother, but 1 thought it was in st 
quiet, conimonplace way — Who knows, 

but she loves me, too? — or might .'* 

She came into the room at tliis moment — 
" Sarah, my dear," said his lordship, 
" where are my letters, and yesterday's pa- 
pers, which I never read — I'll see it" there 
U any thing in them, that can interest your 
mother." 

Lord Glistonbury opened the papers ; 
and the first article of public news was — a 
dissolution o( parliament confidently ex- 
pected to take place immediately." — This 
lunst put an end to Vivian's scheme of ^o- 
Ing to town to attend his dnty in parlia- 
.ment — " But, maybe, it is only newspaper 
information." It was confirmed, howeverj 
by tdl lord Glistonbury and Vivian's ]>rivate 
letters. A letter from his mother, whiclL 
Vivian now, for the first moment, had tim^ 
■to peruse, mentioned the dissolution of par- 
liament as certain ; she named her antho- 
rity, which could not lie doubted ; and, 
in conset|uence, she had sent ilown supplies 
of wine for an election ; ami she said, that 
she would " be immediately at Castle Xir , 
liaii, to keep open house and open heart for 



r 



iSS VIVIAN, 

ber son. Thongh not foniisherf," she ob- 
served, " the castle would snit the befr^ 
ter all the pnrposes of an election, and sh^ 
should not feel any irn'onvenience, for hey 
own part, let the accomtnodations be what 
Ihey might." 

Lord Glistonbnry directly proposed aiut 
insisted upon lady Mary Vivian's makii^ 
Glistonbury ber bead (jnarters. Vivian ob*- 
jected : lady Glistonbury's illness was an 
ostensible, and, he hoped, wonld be a siiflh- 
cient excnse, for declining the invitatioBi. 
Bot lord Glistonbnry persisted — '* \a.if 
Glistonbury, he was snre, would wish it — 
Nothing wonid be more agreeable to her I* 
His lordship's looks appealed to lady Sarah; 
feut lady Sariih was silent ; and, when her 
father positively retinired her opinion, by 
adding, "Hey! Sarah r" she rather dia- 
conraged than pressed the invitation. She 
said, " that thongh she was persuaded her 
ntnther would, if she were weU, be happy to 
have the pk-asnre of seeing lady Mary Vi- 
viati, yet she could not, in her mother's pre- 
sent situation, venture to decide how far her 
health migkt be able to stand any electi<ai 



VIVIAN. 32^ 

Lady Sarah said this with a very calra 
voice, hot blashed extremely as she »poke ; 
and, for the first time, Vivian thoaght Iter 
Qot absolntely plain i and, for the first time, 
be thought even the formality and deliberate 
coolness of her manner were not disagree- 
able. He liked her more, at this mtHnent, 
than he had ever imagined it possible he 
conid like lady Sarah Lidhurst ; but he 
liked her chiefly, because she did not press 
Lim into her service, but rather forwarded 
ius earnest wish to get away from Glis- 
toabury. 

Lord Glistonbury appealed to the physi- 
cian, and asked whether company and 
ftOinEement were not " the best things pos- 
sible for his patient ? Lady Glistonbnry 
should not be left alone, surely! Her mind 
Uiould be interested and amused ; and an 
flection would be a fortunate eircumstivntej 
just at preycnt ! " 

Thu physician qualified the assent, which 
)us loriUiiip's peremptory tone seemed to de- 
(nand, by saying, "that, certainly, jnoderate 
funusement, and whatever interested, ivith- 
out agitating her ladyship, would be salu- 
ti^y." His lotdsUip then declui'ed,.- that 






*^4 VIVIAN. 

Would leave it to lady GUstonbafy herself 
to decide : quitting the end of the room 
where they were holding their cousultation, 
he approached her ladyship, to explain the 
matter. But lady Sanih stopped him, be* 
seeching so earnestly, that no appeal might 
he made to her mother, that Vivian was 
quite moved ; and he settled the business at 
once, to general satisfaction, by declaring-, 
that, though neither he nor lady Mary Vi- 
vian could think of intruding, as inmates, at 
present, yet that they should, as soon ai 
lady Glistonbnry's health would permit, lie 
as much at (Jlislonbnry Castle as possible,, 
aad that the t-bort distance from his Itouse 
would make it, he hojied, not inconvenient, 
to his lordship for all eletition business-.. 
Lord Glistonbury acceded, and lady Sai-al^ 
appeared gratel'ully satisfied. His lordship-, 
wbo always took the task of explanation: 
npon himself, now read the paragraph about; 
the dissolution aloud to lady Glistonbury ;j 
informed her, that lady Mary Vivian was-^ 
coming immediately to ttie conntry; and;,- 
that they should hope to see lady Mary and. 
Mr. Vivian almost every day, though he^ 
fouJd - not prevail npoa them to take up 




I 



V I V 1 A V. saa 

tlieir abocie during the election at Glistoib> 
bory. Lady Glistonbarv listened, and tried, 
and seeuif d to understand — bowed to Mr. 
Vivian and smiled, and said she i-emembered 
he vras often at Glistonhtiry daring the last 
election — that she was happy to hear sb« 
sbonld have thejifei^nre to see lady Mary 
Vivian. That some people disliked eU'ction 
times, but, for her part, slie did not, whea 
she was strong. Indeed, the last election 
«he recollected whh particular pleasure — she 
was happy, that lord Glistonbnry's interest 
was of service to Mr. Vivian — Then " she 
hoped his canvas to day had been success*- 
fol ?" — and asked some questions, that 
showed her mind had become confused, and 
that she was confounding tlie past with the^ 
present. Lady Sarah ami Mr. Vivian said 
a. few words to set her right — she looked 
first at one, and then at the other, listening; 
-^and then said, 

" I understand — God bless you both.'*' 
Vivian took up his hat, and looked out of 
the window, to see if his carriage was at the 
door. 

" Mr. Vivian mshes you a good morning,, 
madam," said lady Sarah : "he is going ta 



Sa6 VIVIAN. 

Castle Vivmu, to get thii^ ready for Jady 
Mary's arrival." 

*' I wish you health and bappiuess, sir,** 
taid lady GlLstonbary, attempting to rise, 
whilst some painful reminiscence altered her 
eonntenanfe. 

" Pray, rto not stir, don't disturb jtmT~ 
■elfj lady Glistoobory — I shall pay my re- 
spects to your ladysbq) again, as soon as 
ossihle." , 

" And pray bring ine good news of tW t 
election — and how the poll stands to mor- 
row, Mr. Vivian," added her ladyship, as he- 
left the room. 




CUAPTEA XII. 



'Who had felt oppre»M^ uiS 
almost enslaved by his compassion, breathed 
GQore freely, when he at kist foend him- 
self ill his carriage, dnTing away from 
Glistonbnry. — His own castle, and the pro- 
'parations for his mother's arrival and for 
the expected cauvas, occupied hira so mncb 
§BT the ensuing days, that he had scarcely 
time to think of lady Jnlia or of lady Sarab 
— of RnsBell or Selina : he conld neither re- 
flect on the past, nor anticipate the fiiture y 
the preaeat, the vul^r present, fiill (rf «p- 
holsterers, and paperhangers, and l>Qtler9, 
aad grooms, and tenants, and freeholders, 
and parasites, prefised upon his attention 
■ with importunate claims. It has been said, 
by a noble and gallant author, that the 
great, the important buHiuess of a woman's 
life, is love ; but, «xcej>t in novels, love 
forms bxit Li small sbare of the various bo- 
uness of the geaeraUty, cither of men os 



i 



328 VIVIAN. 

women. The dissolution of parliament 
took place. — Lady Mary Vivian arrived al- 
niost as soon as the newspaper, that brought ^ 
this intelligence: with her came a new set 
ofthonghts, all centring in the notion of 
her son's consequMce in the world, and of 
his happiness — ideas which were too firmly- 
associated, in her mind, ever to be separated. 
She. said, that she had regretted his having 
made such a long stay in the country, duiv- 
ing the last session, because he had misseiL' 
opportunities of dl^tinguiuhing himself far-' 
ther iu parli;imont. The preceding session^ 
her ladyship had received gratifying conir- 
jiliments on lier son's talents, and ou the' 
tigure he had alieadi/ made in public" lifer- 
she felt her self-love, as well as her aflee-», 
tion, interested iu his continuing his poli- 
tical career with spirit and success. "As-) 
to thepresent elf ction," she observed, " there' ' 
could be little doubt, that lie would be re- 
elected with the assistance of the Gliston- 
bury interest; and," added her ladyships 
smiling significantly, " I fancy yonr inte- 
rest is pretty strong iu that quarter. The 
world has given you, by toms, to lady Julia 
and lady Sarah Lidhuist ; and I am askecl^ 



VIVIAN. 529 

continually, which of the lady Lidhijrsts 
yon are in love with. One of these ladies 
certainly must be my davighter-in-law- ; — •• 
pray,ifyonknow,einpowermetosaywbith." 

Lady Mary Vivian spoke but half in 

earnest, till the extraordinary commotion her 
words created in her son convinced her, that 
report had not, now at least, been mistaken. 

" Next to miss Selina Sidney," continned' 
JadyMary, — "who,afterherpositivcandlong> 
persirted in refusal, is quite out of the ques- 
tion — I have, my dear son, always wished 
to see yon married to one of the lady Lid- 
liarsts; and, of course, lady Julia's talents, 
and beauty, and youth ." 

Vivian interrupted, and hastily told his 
mother, that lady Julia Lidhurst was as 
much out of the question as miss Sidney 
could, be; for that he had offered himself, 
ftnd had been refused ; and that he had 
every reason to believe, that the detennina- 
tion of his second mistress against him 
Would he at least as absolute and uncon- 
iperahle, as that of his fii-st. His mother 
was in amazement. — That her son could bd 
refused by lady Julia Lidhurst, appeared a 
moral and political impossibility, " espc* 



9||ft VIVIAN.- 

ciolly when the desire for a ^onnexion;^- 
between the families had been so obviou^ 
on the side of the Glistonburies ! — Wha^" 
could be the meaning of this ? — Lady Julia, 
was perhaps under an erroor, aod fancied he. 
was someway engaged to miss Sidney; or^ 
perhaps," said lady Mary, who had a readj^ 
wit for the invention of delicate distresses^ 
*' perhaps there is some difficuUy about the 
eldest sister, lady Sarah i for you know, tlwj 
first winter, you were given to her. — Ay« 
that must be the case. I will go to GlistoiVr 
bury to morrow, and I will have lady Julia t<^ 
mvself for live minutes ; I think I havg 
some penetration, and I will l<;aow tl^ji 
tmtt." 

Lady Mary was again surprised, by heart 
ing from her son, that lady Julia was not a^ 
Glistonbmy — that she was gone with h«? 
brother into Devonshire.— So there was 4 
dead silence for some minutes, succeeded by 
an, exclamation from lady Mary^ 

"There is some grand secret here — I 
must know it! " Her ladyship forthwith convr 
mt" need a close and able cross-examioationj 
which Vivian stopped, at last, by declaring^ 
that he was not at Liberty to speak npog 



the SQb.iect ; he kuew, he said, tbat Lis m(H 
ther was of too JioiionraUe and generoas a 
tein}>er to press him farther. Hts mother 
wfls perfectly honourable ; but, at the same 
time, extremely curious ; and, though she 
continually repeated — " I will not ask yoo, 
another question — I would not, upon any 
account, lead yon to say a syllable, that 
coiild betray any confidence reposed in yon, 

my dear sou" yet she indulged herself 

in a variety of ingenious conjectures. " I 
Ieoow it u so " — or, *' I am sure that I have 
guessed now, but I don't ask you to tell me. 

^You do right to deny it." Amongst 

the variety of her conjectures, lady Mary, 
dy not find out the truth ; she was pre- 
posse^ised by the idea, that Russell was at- 
tached to Selina Sidney — a secret, which 
her own penetration had discovered, whilst 
her sou was abroad with Mrs. Wharton, 
and which sbe thought no mortal liviug 
knew but herself. Preoccupieii with this 
notion, Russell was now omitted in all her 
combinations. His having quitted Gliston-> 
bury did not create any suspicions of the 
real cause of his sudden departure ; because 
UwiTC waa a sufficient reasnu for his going 



332 VIVIAN. 

to the nortli to see his sick relation, and 
lady Mary was too good a philosopher to as-i* 
sign two causes for the same event, when shcf' 
had fonnd one that was adequate to tha' 
prodnction of the effect. She, therefore, 
quietly settled it, in her imagination, that" 
lady Jnlia Lidhurst was going to be married 
immediately to a certain young nobleman^ 
who liad been lately at Glistonhury, whilst* 
they were acting plays. The next day sh** 
went with Vivian to Glistonhury Castle;^ 
for, waving all the ceremonials of visiting^! 
she was anxious to see poor lady Gliston-^ 
bury, of whose illness she had been apprised,- 
in general terms, by her son. An impnls^ 
of curiosity, mixed, perhaps, with motives of 
regard for her good friend lady Glistonbnry, 
hastened this visit. They found lady Glis- 
tonhury much better ; she looked nearly as 
well, as she had done Iiefore this stroke ; and' 
she had now recovered her memory, and 
the full use of her understanding. Vii 
vian observed, that she and lady Sarah wer* 
both convinced, by lady Mary Vivian's ca- 
riosity, that he had given no hint of any' 
thing, which they did not wish to bff 
known : and the pleasurable conscious] 




f his integrity disposed him to he ]>!eased 
Pith theo). Lord (ilistoiibury, on his side, 
Iras convinced, that Vi\-ian had behaved ho- 
lioarably with respect to his daughter Julia; so 
I all parties were well satisfied with each other. 
I His lordship answered lady Mary Vivian'i* 
inquiries after his son and his ddoghter 
Julia by saying, that miss Strictlaiid had 
jast returned to Glistonbnry witli rather 
more favourable accounts of Lord Lidbnrst'a 
health, and that Julia and he were now at 
his brother the bishop of •*»*»»'s. Be- 
tween this brother and my lord Glistonbnry 
there had never been any great intimacy, 
their characters and their politics being 
very diflerent. The moment lady Mary 
Vivian heard lord Glistonbnry pronounce, 
with such unusual cordiality, the words — 
" my brother the bishop," she recollected, 
that the bishop had a very amiable, accom- 
plished, and remarkably handsome son; so 
she arranged directly, in her imagination, 
that this was the person, to whom lady 
Julia was engaged. Being now thoroughly 
convinced, that this last conjecture was justj 
she thought no more about lady Julia's 
affairs; but turned her attention to lad]^ 



r 



3S4 VIVIAN. 

Sarah, whose cold and guarded niannefjj 
however, resisted her utmoiit penetratiom 
Disappointed in all her attempts to lead 
sentiment or love, the conversation, at last} 
ran wholly upon the approaching electiol^ 
upon the canvass, and the strength of thf 
various interests of the county; on all 
which subjects lady Sarah showed surpri*" 
ingly exact information. Presently, lorit' 
Glistonbury took Vivian with him to hU 
study, to examine some poll-hook, and the^ 
put into his hands a letter from lady JuliiE 
Lidhnrst, which had been enclosed in oni 
to hiniself. 

" I told you, that I intended to rusticate 
Julia," said his lordship, " with a poor parson 
and his wife — relations, distant relations of 
ours in Devonshire—hut this plan has been 
defeated by my foolish good brother the 
bishop. On their journey, they passed 
close by his palace ; 1 charged miss Strict- 
land to he incog — but they stayed to rest at 
the village ; for Lidhorst was fatlgiied ; and 
some of the bishop's people found them out, 
and the bishop sent for them, and at last 
came hirasell. He was so sorry for Lid- 
hnrst's illness, and, as miss Strictland says. 



ViVlAN. 



3So 



much cliartued with Julia, wboni he has 
lot seen since lihe w»s a child, that he ab- 
solutely took possession of them, and Julia 
has made her party good with him, for he 
Tnites me word he cannot part with her — 
that I must allow her to remain \nth him — 
and that they will take all possible care of 
Lidhurst'H health. I believe I mnst yield 
this point to tbe bisbo}>; for, all together, it 
looks better, that Jnlia should be at tbe 
palace, than at the parsonage ; and, though 
Jny poor brother has not tbe knowledge of 
the world one could wisb, or that is neces- 
■«ary to bring this romantic girl back to 
reason, yet But I keep yon from read- 
ing your letter, and I see yon are impatient 
— Hey? — very natnrall^biit, lam afraid, 
all in vain — I'll leave yon in peace. At any 
rate," added lord GHstonbory, " yon know 
Vvc always stood your firm friend in this 
business ; and yon know I'm discreet.'* 

Vivian never felt so grateful for any in- 
stance of his lordship's friendship and dis- 
cretion, as for that, which he gave at this 
moment, by quitting tbe room, and leaving 
him in peace, to read bis letter. 



r 



• -336 



CHAPTER XIII. 



" Before you open this letterj yon wM 

*' have heaicl, probably, that my uucle, tfie 

" ))ighop of '*****, has titken me under htl 

". protection. I cannot sufficiently regre^ 

" that I was not a few years, a few months 

" sooner, blessed with such a Mentor. I 

" jievcr, till now, knew how much power 

" kindness has to touch the mind in tht 

" moment of distress ; nor did 1 ever, till 

'* now, feel how deeply the eloquence of tniif 

" piety slides into the heart. This excellent 

" friend will, I hope, in time, restore nW to 

" my better self. From the abstraction, th*^ 

".selJishnessof passiun, I think I am already 

" somewhat recovered. After being wholly 

" itbaorlMid by one sentiment, I begin to feel 

I " again the influence of other motives, and 

I " to waken to the returning sense of sodtd 

I " duty. Among the first objects to which, 

I " in recovering from tliis trance, or this ' 

K " fever of the soul, I have ^wer to turn my 

k J 









VIVIAN. 337 

*' attention^ your liappine^s^ sir^ next to that 
of my own nearest relations^ I find interests 
me most. After giving you this assur- 
ance^ I trust you will believe, that, to en- 
sure the felicity, or even to restore the 
'^ health, and preserve the life of any rela- 
tion or fiiend I have upon Earth, I should 
not think myself justified in attempting 
to influence your mind to any thing, 
which I did not sincerely and firmly be- 
** lieve would be for your permanent ad- 
*^ vantage, as well as for theirs. Under 
^^ the solemn faith of this declaration, I 
** hope, that you will listen to me with pa- 
*^ tience and confidence. From all that I 
'^ have myself seen, and from all that I have 
^^ heard of your character, I am convinced, 
*^ that your wife should be a woman of a 
" disposition precisely opposite, in many 
respects, to mine. Your character is 
liable to vary, according to the situations 
in which you are placed ; and is subject to 
"sudden, but transient impressions, from 
" external circumstances. You have hi- 
^^ therto had a friend, who has regulated the 
" fluctuations of your passions ; now that he 
^' is separated from you, how much will you 
" feel the. loss of his cool and steady yad^ 
VOL. V. a 






Hr> VIVIAN, 

'nient!— Should you not, tlierefijre, in 
' that hoBom friend, a wife, look for a cer- 
' taiu firiimess and stability of character, 
' capable of resisting, rather than di^o^^d 
' to yield, to sudden impnlse ; a character, 
' not of enthusiasmj hut of duty; n mind, 
' which, instead of increasing, hy example 
' and sympathy, any defects of yonr own — 
' pardon the expression — should correct or 
•' compensate tliese hy opposite qualities. 
' And CTi]jposing, that, with such sobrkty 

* and strength of character, as I have de- 
' scrihfd, there should be connected a cer- 
' tain slowness, formality, and coldness of 
' manner, which might not at first be at- 
' tractive to a man of your vivacity, let not 
' this repel yon : whenonceyonhavelearDetl 
' to consider this manner as the conco- 

* mitant and indication of (jualities essentiiil 
' to your happiness, it would, 1 mn per- 
' Buaded, become agreeable to you; espe- 

* cjally as, on nearer observation, you would 
' eoon discover, that, bunciith that external i 

* coldness, under all that snow and ice, ' 

* l^ere is'an accumnlated and conoenti'ated 
' Warmth of affection. 

" Of this, sir, you must lately bare seen 
' ikn eitiHii|plti ID my own family. At th6| 




VIVIAN. 939 

* nftoWeot when qiy poor mother was etnick 
*with palsy, Ton shw Rty sister'M wieroy ; 
" and her cliai'acter, probably, then aj^peared 
*' to you in a new point of view. From 
" this burst of latent itffection ior a parent, 
•* yon may form Bome idea what the power of 
" the passion of love wonhl he in her eoul; 
" some idea, I say, for I am persuaded, that 
" none but those, who kuow tier an well as 
" I do, can form an adequate notion of the 
** strength of attachment of which she h 
*' capable. 
^ •* Am I mistaken, Mr. Vivian, in think- 
^' ifig, that it would be nfcessnrv to yonr 
""* happiness to he beloved both with ardent 
*** and constant affection? Certainlv. I can- 
not be mistidien on tbis point. There is 
another, of wiiich i feel equally certain — 
"* that yon would he more likely to inspire 
,^' a strong attachment in a mind like my 
'** sister's, than in such u. heart as mine. 
*'*' Let it not wonnd your pride, or sniv of 
V." yoor feelings, if I tdl you, that, even if 
if* my iift'ections were at my own disposal, 
-** and if no past ciixsmistances prevented the 
.'"possibility of my thinking of yon (is ii 
- •• lover, 1 conld not feel the paxsion of Jove 
^" for a man of your dispositjon- I'licre 



' must be superior strengtb, decisioD, anj 
' loftiness of character ; there must be 
' something of the moral sublime, to seize 
' my imagination, and touch my heart. 
' My sister, on the contrary, admires more 
' vivacity and generosity of character, and 
' would l)e captivated, in a lover, by tboiC 
' qualities and accomplishments, for which 
' you are eminently distinguished. Certain 
" of thu excellence of your disposition and 
' of yonr principles, and conscious that her 
* own firmness of mind wonld prevent any 
■' danger from the vacillations of your easy 
'•' temper, she would, as your wife, become 
" more and more attached to you, even froa 
" what yon may think yonr defects, becanso 
" she would teel the continual sense of being 
" useful and necessary to yonr happiness. 
" You will be surprised, perhaps, sir, to 
" bear me reason so coolly for others on ■ 
" subject, where I have acted S(» rashly for 
" myself; and yon may feel no incUnatioO 
" to listen to the advice of one, who li 
" shown so little prudence in her 01 
" affairs; therefore, having stated my res^ 
*' sons, and suggested my conclusions, I 
" lea^■c you to apjily them as you tbiiA 
" jjroper ; iind 1 shall only add, that tht 



*• accomnlishi 



?IAN. 341 

accomplishment of my wishes, on this 
** suhject, would give me peculiar satisfac- 
tion. It would relieve my mind from 
** part of a weight of self-reproach. I have 
** made hoth my parents unhappy. I 
** have reason to fear, that the shock my 
" mother received, hy my means, coutribnted 
** much to her late illness. An event, that 

* would restore my whole family to happl- 
" ness, must, therefore, he to me the most 
"desirable upon Earth. I should feel im- 
" mediate relief and delight, even in the 
** hope of contributing to it by any influence 

* 1 can have over your mind. And, indc- 

* pendently of the pleasure and pride I 
" should feel in securing my sister's happi- 
*' ness and yours, I slio-ild enjoy true satis- 

— '** faction, sir, in that intimate friendship 
^ with you, which only the ties of such near 
*** relationship could permit or justify. Yon 
" will accept of this assurance, instead of 
** the trite and insulting, because unmeaning 
** or unsafe, offer of friendship, which ladies 
" sometimes make to those who have been 
** their lovers. 

" Julia Lidhukst." 
****** Palace." 



J 



M VIVIAN.- 

At tlie firsfreading of tliis ktter, Vlviait* 
felt notluiig but a rruewal of regret fo*- 
having lost all chance df obtaining the 
affectioDS of the person, by whom it was 
written : on a secouil ptrasal, he was movedf 
by the earnest expression of her wishes fof 
his happiness ; and the dtsire to gratify her/ 
on a point on which she was so utmious, iiv 
fluenced liini mach more, than any of he#^ 
arguments. Whatever good sense tlie lett^ 
contained wa^ loet tipon him ; but all th« 
sentiment operated with full force ; yet not 
with sniHcient power to conquer the rejnigw 
nance he still felt to lady Sarah's person an4 
manners. Lord Glistonbnry made do ur- 
quiries concerning tlie contents of hiff ' 
daughter Julia's letter ; but, &s far as polite^ ' 
ness would permit, he examined Vivian's 
countenance when he returned to the draw^ ' 
ing-room. Lady Glistonbury's manner wa«' 
as calm as usnal ; Imt the slight shake of' 
her head was a sufiieieiit indication of her* 
internal feelings. Lady Sarah looked pale^' 
but 9o perfectly composed, that Vivian waa' 
convinced she, at least, knew nothing of heP 
sister's letter. So greftt indeed was the oat- 
H'ard composure, and so immovable was- 



UHy Sarali. Uiut it jifovqIm^ btdy Mary past 

wdnrance ; — 

'* I iwver saw inch a yoang woman as 
hdy Sarah Lidhurst. She is a stick, a stonei 
a statue — She has completely satisfied my 
Blind ou oTie point. I own, that when I 
fomid lady Juiia was out of the questioa, 
i did hegin to thiok and wish, that lady 
iSarah might be my daughter-in-law, bet'aiue 
^tHie has really been so carefulty brought up, 
*nd the connexion with the Glistoubiiry 
ifcinily is so desirable — Then I had a notion, 
Ibefore I saw her this morning, that the girl 
liked you, and might be really Gajtable ©f 
|ltt!U:hment ; but now, indeedj I am con- 
vinced of the folly of that notion. She has 
1H) feeling — none upon Earth — scarcely 
Common sense ! She thinks of nothing but 
JKwshe holds her elbows. The formality and 
Importance with which she went on cutting 
ends of worsted, from that frightful ta- 
jKstry work, whilst I talked of you, quite 
put me ojit of all manner of patience. — She 

bas no feeling — none upon Earth ." 

1- " Oh ! ma'am," said Vivian, " you do her 
wyusticc : she certainly has feeling — for 
her mother." 



SM VIVIAN. 

" Ay, for her mother, may be ! a kind of 
mechanical affection ! " 

" Btit, ma'am, if you had seen her at 
the time that mother was struck with 
jjfllsy 1 " 

Much to his own surprise, Vivian fonml 
himself eogaged in a defence, aud almost in 
a eniogimn upon lady Sarah ; hat the in- 
justice of his mother's attack, on this jwint, 
was, he knew, so great, that he could not 
join ill lady Mary's invective. 

"Why, my dear Charles!" said she, 
" do you recollect, on this very road, as vt 
Were returning from Glistonbury Castle, 
this time two years, you called lady Sarah & 
" petrifaction ? " 

" Yes, ma'am ; because I did not knov 
her then." 

"Well, my dear, I must have time t» 
analyse her more carehilly, and I suppose I 
shall discover, as you have done, that she if 
not a petrifaction. — So, then, lady Surah 
really is to be the woman after all. — I am 
content, but I absolutely cannot pretend 
to like her — I like the connexion, however; 
and the vest is your affair. — Yon haveu't 
- proposed, yet ? " 



VIVIAN. 3i5 

"Bless me! no, ma'am! God forbid! ■ 
-How fast yoar imagination goes, my dear 
mother! — Is there no difference between i 
saying, that a woman is not a ])etrifaction, 
and being in love with her ? " 

" In love ! I never said a word abont 
being in love — I know that's impossible — 
I a^ed only if you had proposed for her ? " 

" Dear ma'am^ no ! " 

Lady Mary expressed her satisfaction ; 
.and, perhaps, the injustice, with M'hich she 
continued, for some days, to asperse lady 
Sarah Lidhurst, as being unfeeling, served 
her more, in Vivian's opinion, than any other 
mode, iu which she could have spoken of 
her ladyship. Still he felt glad tbat he had 
not yei proposed. He had not comage either 
.to recede or advance ; circumstances went 
on, and carried him along with thera, 
without bringiag him to any decision. The 
business of the election proceeded ; every 
day lord Gliatonhury was with him, or he 
was at Glistonbury Castle ; every hour he 
saw more plainly the expectations that were ] 
formed ; sometimes he felt, that he was in- 
evitably doomed to fiilfil these, and at other ] 
times he cherished the hope, that lady Julia | 
a5 j 



wonld soon retura Iionie, and thut, by some 
fortunate revolution, she might yet he his. 
He hud not now the adTaotage of Haisell's 
ftnunesa to support hiut m this emergency. 
Russell's answers to his letters ■were so coolly 
detenmoed, and he so absolutely declined' in- 
terfering further in his affairs, that Vivian saw 
Tio hopes of rcgainiing his fiiendahip, or of 
profiting by his counsels. Thus was Vivian 
in all the helplessness and all the horrours 
of incfecision, whoa an event took place, , 
which matei-ially changed the face of affaira 
in the Glistouhary family. ' Just at the 
time when the accounts of his health were 
the most favourable, and when his friends 
were deceived by the most sanguine hopeb 
of his recovery, lord Lidhurst died. His 
mother was the only person in the family, 
who waS prepared for this catJistrophe : they* 
dreaded to communicate the intelligence to 
her, lest it should bring on another attack 
of her dreadful malady ; hot, to their asto- , 
nishment, she heard it with calm resigna- 
tion, ■ — said she had long foreseen this cala- 
mity, and that she submitted to the will of 
Heaven. After pity for the parents, who 
lost this auuftble and promising young man> 



VIVIAN. 347 

heir to tills large fortune, iuid to this splen- 
ilid tiOe, people began to consider what 
change woald be made in the coiiditiou; of 
the reit of tlic family. Tite lady LldbnriiU, 
from being very small forfunt-i, Iiecame 
heiresses to h large eetato. 'I'lie earldoMi 
B*'Glistoi>bury wus to devolve to a nephew 
of lord Glistonbiiry, in tase the ludy Ltd- 
httrsts should uot marry, or should not have 
heirs male; hut, in ca^e they should marry, 
the title was to go to the first son. All these 
(jrcnmstanc'cs were, of tomse, soou known 
and talked of in the neighbourhood ; nnd 
^auy congratulated Vivian upon the great 
.act'essioQ of fortune, and upon the liigh ex- 
pectations of the lady, to whom they sup- 
posed him engaged. 

On the first visit, which Viviiin and his 
.JBothcr paid, after the death of lord L.id- 
hurst, at Gliatonbnry Castle, they found 
thei-e a yonng man, very handsome, but pf n 
dark, reserved conntenance, whose phy- 
siognomy and manner imnicdiately prepoe- 
,us8ed them against him ; ou his part, he 
'tacamed to eye tliem with suspicion, and to 
hb paj'ticularly uneasy, whenever V'iviau 
cither mentioned the dettiou, or ajiproachecl 



54d VIVIAN, 

lad]^ Sarah. This yonng man was Mr. 
Lidhiirst, Lord GHstonhury's nephew and 
heir at law. It was obvious, almost at first, 
sight, that the nncle disliked the nephew; 
hnt it was not so easy to perceive, that the' 
nephew despised the uncle. Mr. Lidhurst^, 
thoogh youngj was an excellent politician f 
atid his feelings were always regulated by' 
bis interests. He had more abilities than 
lord Glistonbury, less vanity, but iufiaitely 
more ambition. In lord Glistonbury, am- 
hition was rather affected, as an au' snit^ 
to his rank, and proper to increase his coo- 
seqnence : Mr. Lidhurst's was an earnest 
inordinate ambition, yet it was silent, cold, 
and calculating; his pride preyed upon hio). 
inwardly, but it never hurried him into say- 
og or doing an extravagant thing. Those, 
who were not actuated solely by ambitioB, , 
he always looked upon as fools, and tliose 
who were, be considered, iu general, as 
knaves : the one he marked as dupes, the 
other as rivals. He had been at the bishop 
of « * * * * *'gj during lord Lidhurst's illnes^ 
and at the time of his death. Ever since' 
lady Julia's arrival at the bishop's, he had 
foreseen the probability of this event, and 



IV IAN. 349 

had, in consequence of the long-siglitedness 
of his views, endeavoured to make himself 
agreeable to her. He found this impossible ; 
but was, however, ea.sily condoled, by hear- 
ing, that she had resolved never to marry; 
be only hoped, that she would keep her re- 
Golution ; and he was now at Glistonbury 
Castle, in the determination to propose for 
his other cons:n,Iady Sarah, who woidd, per- 
haps, equally well secure to him his objects. 
" Well ! my dear Vivian," said lord 
Glistonbury, drawing him ai^ide, " how d'y'e 
relish my nephew, Marraaduke Lidhurst ! — 
Need not be afraid to speak the truth, for, 
I tell yon at once, be is no particular fa- 
vourite here ; not en bonne odeur ; but 
that's only between you and me. He thinks 
that I don't know that he considers me as a. 
shallow fellow, because I haven't my head 
crammed with a parcel of statistical tables, 
all the fiscal and financiering stuff, which 
he has at his calculating fingers' ends ; but, 
I tiiist, that I am almost as good a politician 
as he is, and, I'm free to believe, have 
rather more knowledge of the M'orld — 

' In men, not boolts, experienc'tl was my lord ' — 



S60 VIVIAN. 

Hey ? Hey, Vivian ? and can see tbroiigk, 

him, with half an eye, I cao tell hiin. -a 

Wants to get lady Sarah. — yen, yes; bat/, 
nevex came near us, till we lost my poor 
Ixiy — He won't win lady Sarah either, oT ■ 
I'm much mistiiken — Did you ohserye how 
jealous he was of you ? — Right ! right ! — 
he has penetration 1 — Stay, stay! yovr 
■don't know Marmadnke yet ! — drwi't know"- ' 
half his schemes! — How his brow flooded, ■ 
when we were talking of llie election I 
I must hint to yoa, he has been sounding 
me upon that matter ; he has a great mind 
-to stand for this county — talks of starting 
at the tirst day of the poll. I told him it 
eould not do, as I was engaged to yon. He • 
answered, that, of course, was only a condi- 
tional promise, in case none of my own re- 
lations stood. I toQght shy, and he pressed 
confoundedly. — Gad ! he would put lue in 
a very awkward predicament,.if he was really 
to stand ! — for you know what the world 
•would say, if they saw^ me opposing my own 
nephew, a rising young man, and not for a 
relation either — and Manaaduke Lidharst 
is just your deejj fellow, to plan such a 
tiiiog and execute it, not caring at what, or 



VIVIAN. 351 

whose expense. — I can tell him, how- 
ever, I am not a man to be bnllied out of 
my interest, nor to be outwitted neither. — 
Stand firm, Vivian, my good friend, and Vi\ 
stand by you; depend on me! — I only 

wish ." Here bis lordship paused 

" Bat I cannot say more to yon now; for 
here is my precious heir at law coming to 
bi-eak ap the confederacy, I'll ride over, 
and see yon to morrow ; — now, let us all 
be mote, before Marmaduke, our master po- 
liticiao, as becomes ns — Hey! Vivian 5 
Hey?" 

Notwitlistaoding this sort of jealonsy of 
Marroadoke, and the bravadoing style iu 
which lord Glistonbury spoke of him, he 
spoke to him in a very difterent manner : it 
was apparent to Vivian, that his lordship 
was under some awe of his nephew, and 
that, whilst he cherished this secret dislike, 
he dreaded coming to any open niptnre with 
a man, who was, as his lordship appre- 
hendedj^o well able to make his own party 
good in the world. Wlien Marmaduke 
did emerge from that depth of thought, in 
■which he generally seemed to be sunk, and 
when he did condescend to conversej or ra- 



Sh VIVIAN. 

ther to speak, his theme was always of per- 
sons in power, or his Harcasms against those 
who never would oTjtain it : from any one 
thing he asserted, it could never be proved, 
but, from all he said, it might be inferred, 
that he valued human qualities and talents, 
merely as they could, or could not, obtain a 
price in the political market. The powe^' 
of speaking in public, as it is a means iii' 
England of acquiring all other species of 
power, he deemed the first of Heaven's 
gifts ; and successful parliamentary speakers 
were the only persons of whom he expressed 
admiration. As Vivian had spoken, and 
had been listened to in the house of com- 
mons, he was in this respect an oliject of 
Marmadiike Lidhurst's en\'y; but this envy 
was mitigated by contempt for onr hero's 
want of perseverance in ambition. 

"There is that Mr. Vivian of yours," said 
he to his uncle, whilst Vivian was gone to 
talk to the ladies — "you'll find he will be 
but a woman's man, after all — lleavens! 
with his fluency in public, what I would 
have done by this time of day ! This poor 
fellow has no consistency of ambition — no 
great views — no reach of mind — Put him 



VIVIAN. S5:j 

1|B for a borough, and he would be jnst as 
*ve\l content, as if he carried the connty — 
Von'll see he will, after another session or 
^wo, cut ont, and retire without a jiensioD, 
*nd settle down into a mere honest country 
'gentleman — He wonld be no connexion to 
increase the consequence of your family. 
Lady Sarah Lidhurst would be quite lost 
with such a nobody! Her ladyship, I am 
couvioced, has too much discrimination, and 
values herself too highly, to make such a 
•mins^ match," 

Lord Glistonhiiry coughed, and cleared 
lis throat, and blew his nose, and seemed to 
snfier extremely, hut chiefly under the re- 
pression of his usual loquacity. Nothing 
conid be at once a greater proof of liis re- 
spect for his nephew's abilities, and of his 
lordship's dislike to him, than this unna- 
tnral silence. Mr, Lidhurst's compliments 
on lady Sarah's discrimination seemed, 
however, to be premature, and unmerited ; 
for, during the course of this day, she treated 
all the vast efforts of her consin Marma- 
duke's gallantry M'ith haughty neglect, and 
showed, what she had never before suffered 
to be visible in her manner, a marked pre- 



jj 



' ^M VIVIAN, 

ferencc for Mr. Vivian's conversatioD. Th*" ' 
sort of euialiitiai), which Mr. Lidhurst's ri- 
valship produced, increased the value of the 
object ; slie, for whom there was a conten- 
tion, iraraediiitely became a pme. Vivian 
was lioth provoked and amused by the al- . 
ternate contempt and jealousy, which Mr. 
Lidhurst betrayed ; this gentleman's desuv 
to keep him out of the Glistonbury fanul^i , 
and to supplant liim in lady Sarali's favoorj ' 
piqued him to prove his influence, and de- 
termined him to maintain his ground. In- 
sensibly, Vivian's attentions to the lady be- 
came more vivacious ; and he was vain of 
showing the ease, taste, and elegance of hit 
gallantry ; and he was flattered by the idea^ 
that ail the spectators perceived both it's 
superiority and it's success. Lady Sarah, 
whose manners had much improved sine* 
the departure of miss Strictland, was sa 
much embeUished by our hero's attentionsj 
that he thought her quite charming. Ha 
had been prepared to expect fire under th* 
ice, hut he was agreeably snrprised by this 
sudden spring of flowers from beneath the 
snow. The caiTiage was at the door in the 
evening, and had waited half an hour, be-- 



VIVIAN. 055 

iore he *-a3 aware iliai it was time to de- 
part, 

" You are right, tny dear son I " lady 
Mary began, the moment ihey were seated 
m the- Ciirriage — " Vou are qnite right, and 
t'^as quite wrong about hidy Saiah Lid- 
inrst; she has feeling, iudeed — strong, 
feoerons feeling; and she shotvti it at the 
aroper time — a fine, decided character I — 
ler manners, to day, so easy, and her conn- 
Et^ance so aimuated, really she looked (joite 
landsome, and I think her a charming wo- 
- What changes love can make ! 
I^ell, now I am satisfied : this is what I 
tlways wished — connexion, family, for- 
tune, every thing — and the very sort of 
character you require in a wife; the very 
lersoQ, of all others, that is suited to you." 
' If she were hut a little more like her 
r — or Sjlina Sidney event" — saidVi- 
, with a aigh. 
" That very word even — ■ your saying like 
ISeHua Sidney even — shows, that you have 
['Hot ipuch cause for sighing: for you sec 
li0w quickly the mere fancy in thpse inat- 
s changes — and you may love lady Sa- 



[ 



rah presently, as much as yon loved Pi'fli 
lady Julia." 

" Impossible ! ma'am ." 

" Impossible ! Why! my dear Charles,, 
yon astoDish me ! for you cannot bat see 
the views and expectations of all the fa* 
mily, and of the young lady herself ; am 
yonr attentions to day were snch, as coiil4! 
bear bnt one construction." 

" Were they, ma'am ? — 1 was not awan» 
of that at the time — that is, I did not meani 
to engage myself — Good Heavens! snreiy 
1 am not engaged ? — Yon know a man ig 
not bonnd, like a woman, hy a few foolish 
words ; compliments and gallantry are not 
BUch serious things with ns men — Men 
never consider themselves engaged to a wo* 
man till they make an absolnte proposal. 

" I know that is a common maxim with 
young men of the present day, hut I coni 
sider it as dishonourable and base ; and 
very sorry should I he to see it adopted hy 
my son 1" cried lady Mary, indignantly — • 
" Ask your friend Mr. Russell's opinion oa 
this point — He long ago told you — I 
know he did — that, if you had not serioiu^ 



riviAti. 357 

thoughts of lady Sarah Lidhurst, yoD would 
do very wrong, after all the reports that 
hare gone abroad, to continue your inti- 
macy with llie Glistoiibnries, and thas to 
deceive her imd her whole family — I only 
appeal to Mr. Russell ; — will you ask your 
friend Russell's opinion ?" 

Vivian sighed again deeply for tlie loss 
of bis friend Russell; but as he could not, 
without touching upon lady Julia's af^urs, 
expliiin the cause of the coolness between 
liini and his friend, he answered only, " that 
^n appeal to Mr. Russell was unnecessary, 
jrhen he had his mother's opinion." Lady 
^ary's wish for tlie Glistonbury connexion 
^rtified her morality ut this moment, and 
^he replied : " Then my decided opinion is, 
.ihat it would be an immoral and dishonour- 
able action to break snch a tacit engage- 
ment as this, which you have voluntarily 
(Contracted, and which you absolutely could 
mot break, without destroying the peace and 
.happiness of a whole family. Even that 
._cold lady Glistonbury grew quite warm to 
day; and you must see the cause. — And, 
in lady Glistonbury's state of health, who 
■« for the conse([uenccs of any 




f 



mm VIVIAN. 

disappointment about her ftivourite datOgfei' 
ter • — jnst after the loss of her son, too ! — ^' 

" No more, mother, for Heaven's sake! 
I see it all — I feel it all — I must marrj 
lady Sanih, then. — By what fatality am 1 
doomed, am I forced to marry a womaHj 
whom I cannot lore, whose person an^ 
manners are pecnliarly disagreeable to me 
— and when I'm half in love with anothw 
woman ! " 

*'That would be a shocking thing in- 
deed," said lady Mary, retracting, and 
alarmed; for now another train of assocjfb- 
tions were wakened, and she jndged, not by, 
her worldly, but by her romantic system.— 
'*' I am sure, I would not, for the world, 
nrge you to net agiiinst your feelings. I 
would not be responsible for such a moT^ 
rittge, if you are really in love with her 
sister, and if lady Sarah's^ person and 
manners are pecuHariy and ahsolntely disa- 
greeable to you.— I should do a very wicked 
atition— should destroy my son's happiness 
and montlF, perhaps, by insisting on sucb 
a marriHgc. — Heaven forbid!" — (a silence, 
of a mile and a half long ensued.) — " But, 
Charles, after all I saw to day, how ca» 



VIVIAN. 359 

clieve, tbal lady Sarah is so disagreeable 
■ yooJ" 

, *' Ma'am, she happened not to lie iibso- 
ntely disagieesible tu ine to day." 

" Oh! well! then she may not liappen to 
c disagreeable to yon to morrow, or the 
lext day, or cvm- iigain! — And, as to the 
/ancy for her sister, wlien all ho])e is over, 
■you know, loye soon dies of itself." 

" May be so ; bnt it is not tlead yet, 

oa'ato.— — I am alraid And yet I wiah 

t was — for it can only be a torment to me. 
'•— And I am as well convinced, us ynn are, 
that it would be better for me to marry 
Jady SiU'ah — she is certainly very estimable, 
and all that; and 1 atn very grateful for 
ifher preference. — Ajid, now she is snch a 
great hiiiress, she certainly shows generosity 
■and constancy, in abiding by this prefer- 
^ice. — As yon say, she has a noble mind. — 
And such a woniiin ought not to be thrown, 
away npon that Marmaduke Lidhurst, who 
only looks upon her as a means of grati- 
. fying his ambition; and who, I am sui%, 

would make her very unhappy. 'His cold ■ 

pride is insupportable to me ; he thinks he 
K'the whole family cast meoff to please 




3fi|^ VIVIAN, 

him. Perhaps he may find himself misJ" 

taken. — Lord Glistoubniy would prefer md 
for a Hou-iu-law, — But, you know, after all,) 
1 can propose for lady Sarah at any time — H 
there's no immediate hurry, raa'am." 

So ended the conversation, ^The nexil 

morning, at an unusual hour, lord GlistMi-^ 
bury made his apjwarance at Castle Viviauj 
with an air of great vexation and emhar^ 
rassment: he endeavoured to speak of tii-^ 
vial topics; hot, one after another, thes^ 
subjects dropped. Then lady Mary, whi 
saw, that he was anjtious to speak to hef, 
son, soon took occasion to withdraw, no^ 
without feeling some curiosity, and formingi 
many conjeetnres, as to the object his lordi 
ship might have in view in this conference.,') 

Lord Glistonbnry'a countenance exliibitedj 
in quick alternation, a look of absolute di 
termination and of utter indecision. At 
length, with abrupt efl'ort, he said — 

" Vivian, have you seen the papers t<^ 
day ? " 

" The newspapers ? — yes! — no! — Thqjj 
are on the table — I did not look at them — , 
Is there any thing extraordinary ? " 

" Yes, fiiith! — extraordinary, very extra- 



VIVIAN. 361 

ordinary^ — But it is not here — it is not 
there — this is not the right paper — it is not 
in yoar paper. — That's eitraorcUnary, too" — 
(then feeling in both pockets) — " I was a 
fool, not to bring it with me — May be I 

have it — Yes, here it is! Not public 

news, bat private ." 

Vivian was uU expectation, fur lie una- 
gined that soinetliing about lady JuUa was 
coming. Lord Glistonbury, who, in his 
commerce with public men, had learned, 
the art of paying iu words, to gain time^ 
when in danger of a bankruptcy of ideas, 
went on, stringing sentences together, with- 
out much meaning, whilst be was collecting 
his thongbts, and stcdying the countenance 
of his auditor. 

*' Yon recollect my suggestions the last 
time I had the honour of speidting to yon 
on a particular subject. — 1 confess, Mr. Lid- 
hurst's conduct does not meet my ideas of 
propriety ; but other persons are free to form 
what judgment they think fit upon the ofc- 
casion.— I shall submit the matter to yoo» 
Mr. Vivian, feeling myself called upon to 
come forward in\mediately to explain it to 



2BSP. \' I V I A N. 

your sutisfaction, and I do not fear to com* 
mit luyBelf, by stating at once my sentiments, 
and the light in which it strikes me ; for 
there must be some decision shown, some 
how or other, and on some side or otlien 

Decision is all in all in public busioesSj 

as the great Bacon or somebody say 
nobody knows that better than Marmi^duke." 

Here his lordship grew warm, and, qnifri 
ting his parliamentary cant, assnmed his fa 
miliar style, 

" Gad! be lias stolen a march upon us— 
ontgencralled ns — but, in my private opi 
nion, not in the handsomest style possibltf 
— Hey, Vivian?^Hey?" 

" My dear lord, I have not heard the 
fact yet," said ViviaTi. 

" Oh I the fact is simply Look here, ho 

has, without my encouragement or concur- 
rence — and, indeed, as he very well knew; 
contrary to my approbation and wishes- 
gone, and declared himself candidate for 
this comity; and here's his fine, flourishingj) 
patriotic, damned advertisement in the 
paper — 'To the gentlemen, clergy, and 
freeholders of the county' Gad! lio' 



VIVIAN. 363 

it startled me, this morning. WhcMi I first 
saw it, I rubbed my eyes, and could hardly 
believe it was Miirmadnkc. Though I pique 
myself on knowing a man's style at the first 
line, yet I could not have believed it was his, 
unless I had seen his name, at full IcMigth, 
in these great, abominable characters, ' John 
MarmadukeLidhurst.' — Glistonbury Castle ! 
too — As if I had countenanced the thing, or 
had promised my support ; when he knew, 
that, but yesterday, I was arguing the point 
with him in my study, and told him, I was 
engaged to you. — Such an ungentlcmanlike 
trick! — for you know it reduces me to the 
dilemma of supporting a man, who is only 
my friend, against my nearest relation by 
blood, which, of course, would have an odd 
and awkward appearance, in the eyes of the 
world!" 

Vivian expressed nuich concern for his 
lordship's difficulties; but observed, that 
the world would be very unjust if it l)lanied 
him, and he w as sure his lordship had too 
much decision of character 

*^ But, independently of the world," in- 
terrupted his lordship, " even in our o^vn 

R 2 



r 



$64 VIVIAN. 

family, amongst all the Lidbursts and that 
remotest connexioDs, there would be quite a 
league formed against me; and these family 
quarrels are ugly aft'airs: for, though our 
feudal times are done away, party clanships 
have SHCceeded to feudal clanships ; and wo 
chiefs of parties must keep our followers in- 
good humour, or we are nothing in thejield 

1 should say in the house — Ha! bal 

ha! 1 laugh, but it is a very serious 

Imsincss. — For Marmaduke Lidburst would 
be, in private or public, an impracticable 
eneray.—Marmaduke's a fellow capable of 
inextinguishable hatred; and he is every 
where, and knows every body, of all tha 
clubs, a rising young man, who is listened^ 
to, and who would make his story credited. 
And then, with one's nephew, one can't 
settle these things in an honourable way-^ 
these family quarrels must be arranged ami-i 
fably, not honourably; and that's the diP 
ficulty; the laws of honour are dead letters' 
in these cases, and the laws of the land do 

not reach these niceties of feeling. Bat' 

of the most important fact yon are still to' 
be apprised ." 



VIVIAN. 363 

" Indeed!" cried Vivian. 

" Yes, you have not yet heard Marma- 
dulre's master-stroke of policy ! — " 

"No! — What is it, my lord?~I am »1I 
Attention — Pray explain it to me." 

" But there's the delicacy ! — there's the 
'^fficulty !^Va, no, no. — Upon my soul, 1 
cannot name it!" cried lord Gliatonbnry. — 
*' It revolts my feelings — all my feelings — as 
'* man, as a gentleman, as a father- — Upon 
Miy honour, as a peer, I \Poald sjieak, if I 
eoold ; bnt, for the sonl of me, 1 cannot." 

" Yon know, my d*itf lord," said Vivian, 
** diere can be no delicacies or dilficidties 
with me ; your lordship has done me the 
iioDoar to live always on such a footing of 
intimacy with rac, that, surely, there is not 
tmy thing you cannot say to me!" 

" Why, that's tnie," said lord GUston- 
bury, quitting his affected air of distress, 
«nd endeavouring to throw off his real feel- 
ing of embarrassment — " You are right, my 
clear Vivian I we are certainly upon terms 
•of such intimacy, that 1 ought not to be so 
-scrupulous — But there are certain things, a 

well-born, ivell-bred man In short, it 

■would look so like But, in fact, I am 



SBtJ VIVIAN, 

driven to the wall, and I must defend mf 
self as well as I Can against this nephe' 
of mine — 1 know it will Iiiok like the moi 
horrible tliiiii; upon Earth, like what 
would rather be decapitated than do- 
know it will look, absolutely, as if I c! 
here to ask von to marry my daogliter 
whirh, vott know, is a thing no gentlemi 
could have the most remotely i" his coiri 
templatiou; but, since I am so pressed^ I 
ninst tell yon the exact truth, and 
plain to you, however diflicult, Marma** 

dnke's master-stroke he has propose) 

for lady Sarah ; and has had the assnrantfft 
to ask me, whether there is or is not an^ 
truth in certain reports, which lie is pleaseA 
to affirm have gone nbroad — Heaven know^ 

how or why! And he urges me — th^ 

deep dog! — for his cousin's sake, to con-*' 
tradict those reports, in the only eflectuid 
manner, by a temporary cessation of thtf 
intimate interconrse between Castle Vivian, 
and GHstonbury Castle, whilst lady Saralc 
remains unmarried; or, if onr master poll' 
tician would spesdc plainly, till he has mar- 
ried her himself. At any rate, I have 

spoken frankly, Vivian, Hey? yonll allow; 



^ VIVIAN. 3tS7 

id I itm entitled both to a candid inter- 
station of my motives, and to etjiuil 
rankness of reply." 

Wbiht liis lordship Inid been s])eukiiig, 
oalsy, compassion, gratitude, vanity, rival- 
hip, honour, lady Mary Vivian's conversa- 
^n, lady Julia's letter, then again the coii- 
9exion, the earldom in future, the present 
trininph or disap])ointment about the elec- 
JSon, the insolent intmsion of Mr. Lidhur^t, 
Jhe cruelty of abandoning a lady, who was 
In love with him, the dishonour, the impoe- 
sibility of receding after certain reports; all 
tbese ideas, in rapid succession,, pressed on 
yivian's mind: and his decision was in con- 
^quentie of the feelings and of the embar- 
^ssment of the moment. — Hisreijlyto lord 
)Glistonbury was a proposal for lady Sarab, 
followed by as many gallant protestations as 
his presence of mind could furnish. He did 
pot vei"y well know what be said, nor did 
lord Glistonbury scnijndonsly examine 
■whether he had the air and accent of a true 
_Jover, nor did ]iis lordship inquire what bad 
_become of Vivian's late love for lady Julia; 
hut, quite content that the object should be 
altered, the desire the same, he relieved 
Vivian by exclaiming — 



r 



ffiS VIVIAN. 

" Come, come ! all this sort of thing 
lady Sarah herself must hear — and I've 
notion — but 1 can Itecp a secret. — You'll 
return ■nith me directly to Glistonbnry. 
- — Laily Glistonbury will be delighted to 
see ytm, and I shall be delighted to see 
AXarmaduke's face, when 1 tell him yon. 
have actnajly proposed for Sarah — for now 
I must tell you all. — Our politician calcu- 
lated upon the probability that you %roald 
not decide, yon see, to make a proposal, at 
once, that would justify me to the world, 
in supporting my son-ia-law against iny 
nephew,— As to the choice of the son-in- 
law, Sarah settles that part of the businegs 
lierself, you know; for, when two proposals 
are made, both almost equally advantageous, 
in the common acceptation of the word, I 
ftm too good a father not to leave the deci- 
sion to my daughter. — So you see we un- 
derstand one another perfectly, and will 
malce Marmadnke, too, understand ns per- 
fectly, contrary to his calculations — Hey, 

Hey ? Mr. Politician, your advertisement 

must be withdrawn, I opine, in the next 
paper — Hey, Vivian? my dear Vivian?" 

With similar loquacity, lord Glistonbury 
continued, in the fa\ne**oH\\%Wwct, all the 



VIVIAN. S69 

way thev went together to Glistonbury 
Castle; which was agreeable to Vivian, at 
least by saving him from all neceesity of 
speakuig. 

" So!" said Vivian to himself, "the die is 
cast, and I have actually proposed for lady 
Sarah Lidhnrst! Who would have ex- 
pected this two years agof 1 wonld not 

have believed it, if ^ had been foretold to 

me, even two jnonths ago. But it is a 

very — a very suitable match, and it will 
please the friends of both parties ; and lady 
Sarah Is certainly very estimable, and capable 
of very strong attachment; and I like her, 
that is, I liked her yesterday very much — 
I really like her." 

Upon those mixed motives, between con- 
■venience and affection, from which, Dr. 
-Johnson says, most people many, our hero 
commenced his courtship of the lady Sarah 
Lidhnrst. As the minds of both parties 
on the subject arc pretty well known to our 
readers, it would be cmel to fatigue them 
with a protracted descrI|)tion of the fonna- 
lities of courtship. — It is sufticifnt to say, 
that my lord Glistonbury had the satisfac- 



970 VIVIAN. 

tion of seeing his nephew disappointed 5 that 
poor lady Glistonbury had not another 
stroke of the palsy from joy; and that the 
marriage of Charles Vivian^ esq., to the 
lady Sarah Lidhnrst^ was solemnized with 
much pomp and magnificence, and with 
every demonstration of joy. 



371 



CHAPTER XIV. 



*^ And the marriage was solemnized \vith 
much pomp and magnificence, and every de- 
monstration of joy." 

Novellists and novel readers are usually 
satisfied when they arrive at this happy ca-r 
ytastrophe; their interest and curiosity sel- 
dom go any farther: but in real life mar- 
riage is but the beginning of domestic hap- 
piness or miseiy. 

Soon after the celebration of Vivian's 
nuptials, an event happened, which inter- 
rupted all the festivities at Glistonbury, and 
which changed the bridal pomp to mourn- 
ing. Lady Glistonbury, who had been much 
fatigued by the multitude of wedding visits 
$he was obliged to receive and return, had 
another stroke of the palsy, which, in a few 
hours, terminated fatally. Thus, the very 
event, which Vivian had dreaded, as the 
probable consequence of his refusal to marry 
her daughter, was, in fact, accelerated by 



r 



37a VIVIAN. 

the fiill accomplishment of her wishes- 
After the loss of her mother, lady Saralc 
Vivian's whole soul seemed to be engrossed 
by fondness for her husband. In public, 
and to all eyes bnt Vivian's, her ladyship 
seemed much the same person as formerly j 
bot, in private, the aflection she expressed 
for him was so great, that he frequently 
asked himself, whether this could be the 
same woman, who, to the rest of the world, 
end in every other part of her life, appeared 
so cold and inanimate. On a very few oc- 
casions her character, before her niarriag:e, 
had, " when much enforced, given out a 
hasty spark, and straight was cold again;'* 
but now she permitted the steady flame to 
bnini without restraint. Duty and passion 
had now the siuue object. Before marriage, 
her attachment had been suppressed, even 
at the hazai'd of her life ; she had no idea, 

I that the private demonstrations of un- 
hotmded love, from a married woman to her 
husband, could be either bhimeable or dange- 
rous : she believed it to be her duty to love her 
husband as much as she possibly could.— ^ 

I Was uot he her husband? — In fact, she 
- I^cw less of the prudence necessary in the 



nviAN. 87a 

management of the passion of love, than 
any girl of seventeen, accustomed to read 
novels, and to heur the suliject talked of, 
conld readily believe to be possible. She 
had been taught, that she should neither 
read, speak, nor think of love; and she had 
been so far too much restricted on this snb- 
ject, that, absolutely ignorant and nncon- 
scioua even of her dant^er, she now pnrsned 
her own course withont chart or compass. 
Her injodicions tenderness soon imposed 
such restraint npon her husband, as scarcely 
any lover, ninch less any husband,, could 
have patiently endured. She would hardly 
ever sufler him to lea-ve her. Whenever he 
went out of the house, she exacted frora 
)iim a promise, that he would be back again 
at a certain hour; aod, if he was even a 
fiew minutes later than his appointment, h« 
had to sustain her fond reproaches. Even 
though he stayed at home all day, she was 
uneasy, if he quitted the room where she 
sat; and he, who, by this time, understood, 
through all her exterior calmness, the symp» 
toms of her internal agitation, saw, by her ■ 1 
countenance, that ihe was wretched, if be I 



J 



r 



374 VIVIAN. 

seemed interested in the conversation of any. 
other jierson, especially of any other wo- 
man. 

One day, when Vivian, after spending the 
morning t^te-il-tete with lady Sarah, signi- 
fied to her his intention of dining abroad, 
she repeated her fond request, that he would 
he sure to come home early, and that he 
would tell her at what o'clock, exactly, she 
might expect to see him again. He named 
an hour, at hazard, to free himself from her 
importunate anxiety, bnt he could not help 
saying, " Pshaw!" as he ran doini stairs; 
an exclamation, which, fortunately, reached 
only the ears of a groom, who was thinking 
of nothing but the tops of his own boots. 
Vivian happened to meet some agreeable 
people where he dined; he was mnch 
pressed to stay to supper ; he yielded to en- 
treaty, but he had the good natured atten- 
tion to send home his servant, to beg that 
lady Sarah and his mother would not sit up 
for him. When he returned, he found all 
I the family in bed, except lady Sarah, who 
I was sitting up, waiting for him, with her 
I watch in her hand. The moment he ap- 



" 1 

VIVIAN. 375 

"peared, she assailed him with tender re- 
proachee, to which he answered — 

" But why would yon sit up, when I 
begged you would not, my dear lady ' 
Sarah ? " 

She replied by a continuity of fond re- 
proach; and, among other things, she said, 
but without believing it to be true — 

*' Ah ! 1 am sure you would have been 
happier, if yon had married my sister Julia, 
or thai miss Sidney ! " 

Vivian sighed deeply ; bnt, the next in- 
stant, conscious that he had sighed, and 
•afraid of giving his wife pain, he eiidea- 
vonred to turn the course of her thoughts to 
8ome other subject. — In vain. — Poor lady 
Sarah said no more, but felt this exqui- 
sitely, and with permanent anguish. Thus 
her impiiidence reverted upon herself^ and 
she suffered in proportion to her pride and 
to her fondness, By such slight circum- 
stances is the human heart alienated from 
love. Struggling to be free, the restive 
little deity rufHes and impairs his plumage, 
and seldom recovers a disposition to tran- 
quillity. Vivian's good nature had induced 
him, for some time, to submit to restraint ; 



876 VIVIAN, 

but if, instead of weakly yielding to tlie 
fond importnnity of his wife — if, instead 
of tolernting the insipidity of her conversa- 
tion, itud the narrowness of her viewa ; he 
had, with real energy, employed her capa- 
city upon snitable objects, he might have 
made her attachment the solace of tiis life. 
Whoever possesses the heart of a woman, 
who has common powers of intellect, may 
improve herunderstanding, in twelve months^ 
more .than could all the masters, and lec- 
tures, and courses of philosophy, and abridg- 
ments, and doi-umevihig in tlie universe. 
But Vivian had not sufficient resolution for 
such an undertaking ; he thought only of 
avoiding to give or to feel present pain ; and 
the consequences were, that the evils he 
di'eaded every day increased. 

Vivian's mother saw the progress of con- 
jugal discontent with anguisli and remorse. 

"Alas I" said she to herself, "I was 
much to blame for pressing this match. 
My son told mc Ite could never love lady 
Sarah Lidhurst. It would have been better 
far to have broken oiF a marriage, at the 
church door, than to have forced the cum- 
pletloa of such an ill-assorted anioo. My 



J 



T IV IAN. 377 

poor 90D married chiefly from a principle 

of hononr ; his doty and respect for my 
opinion had also great weig^ht in his deci- 
eion; and 1 ha%'e fiat^riticed his happiness to 
iny desire, that he shmild make what the 
world calls a splendid alliance. I am the 
cansc of all his misery; and Heaven only 
knows where all this will end ! " 

In her paroxysm of self-reproach, and 
ber eagerness to set things to rights between 
her danghtOT-in-law and her eod, she only 
'made matters «-orse. She spoke, with all 
the warmth and frankness of her own cha- 
racter, to lady Sarab, beseeching her to 
Speak with equal openness, and to explain 
the canse of the alteration in Vivian, 

" I do not know what ynn mean, madam, 
fcy alteration in Mr. Vivinn ! " 

" 1b not there some disagreement between 
YOU, my dear?" 

" There is no disagreement whatcYer, 
tnadam, as far as I know, between Mr. 
Vivian and me — we agree perfectly : " said 
lady Sarah. 

" Well, the misunderstanding'.'" 

" I, do not know of any misunderstandings 



.S^S VIVIAN. 

madam. Mr. X'ivian and I understand on*' 
another perfectly." 

" Tlie coolness, then — Oh I what word 
shall I use! — Surely, my dear lady Sarali, 
tiiereis some coolness — something wrong?" 

" 1 am sure, madam, I do not complaia 
of any coolness on Mr. Vivian's part. Am 
I to understand^ that be complains to yojit 
ladysllip of^oy thing wrong on mine? If 
he does, I shall think it my duty, when he 
points out the particulars, to make any 
alteration he may desire, in my conduct and 
manners." 

" Complain! — My son! — He makes no 
complaints, my dear. — YoQ misunderstand 
me. — My sou does not complain, that any 
thing is wrong on your part." 

" Then, madam, if no complaints are 
made on either side, :l11 is as it should he, 
I presume, at present ; and if, in fijture, I 
should fail in any point of duty, 1 shall hold 
myself obliged to your ladyship, if you will 
then act as my monitor." 

Hopeless of penetrating lady Sarah's 
sevenfold fence of pride, the mother flew to 
her son, to try what could be done witli liia 



L 



VIVIAN. 379 J 

open and ^nerous inind. He expressed a, ' 
most earnest and sincere wish to make his J 
wife hapjiy. Cousciaus that he had given ,' 
her exquisite pain, he eudeavoiiretl to make 
atonement, hy the sacrifices whlcli he thought 
would he most grateful to her. He refrained ^ 
oflea from company and conversation, that 
was agreeahle to hiin, and would resign ■ 

himself for hoiirs to her society, It was 

fortnnate for lady Julia Lidluirst, that, hy , 
continuing with her good uncle, the hishop, 
she did not see the consequences of the 
union, which she had so strenuously advised. , 
The advice of friends is often highly useful, 
to prevent an imprudent match ; hut it 
seldom happens that marriages turn out i 
happily, which have heen made from the ' 
opinion of others, rather than from the judg- 
ment and incHnatious of the parties con- ' 
cerned ; for, let the general rea,sons, on 
which the advice is grounded, be ever so > 
sensible, it is scarcely possible that the ad- 
viser can tiike in all the little circumstances ' 
of taste and temper, upon which so much 
of the happiness or misery of domestic life 
depends. Besides, people are much more | 
apt to repent of havhig been guided hy the ' 



k 



r % ■ ^ 1 

MO VIVIAN, 

judgment of another, than of having fol- 
lowed their own ; and this is most likely to 
be the case with the weakest minds. Strong 
minds can decide for themselves, not by tha 
opinions, bnt )»y the reasons, that are laid 
before them : weak minds are iiiflnencexi 
merely by opinions -, and never, either before 
or after tlieir decision, are firm in abiding I>y 
the prejMjnderating reasons. However in- 
genious or just the arguments, which lady 
Jnlia had urged, to prove, that her sister's 
firmness of character wwild coraj>ensate for 
the unsteadiness of Vivian's ■ — that twd 
people, likely to be mutually serviceable, 
must, therefore, become mutually fond 
of each other — yet there were many consi- 
derations, which had esca])ed her foresight, 
tmd which prevented the accomplishment of 
her predictions, Kven where she had beea 
right, in some res])ects, in her knowledge of 
character, she wiis wrong in the conclusions, 
that she drew from them ; for, though sh© 
had foretold, that her sister Sarah wonlA 
love with a warmth, little to be expected 
from her general manners, yet, lady Jalift 
was mistaken in imagining, that this fond^ 
ness would necessarily he agi^eeable |»' 



VIVIAN. 381 

Vivian, nor could she foresee, that it would 
be so imprudently managed. 

No letters, no intelligence from liome, 
except a malicious hint, now and then, from 
lier cousin Marmaduke, which she did not 
credit, gave her reason to suspect, that the 
pair, whom she had contributed to unite, 
were not perfectly happy. So lady Julia 
exulted in the success of her past counsels, 
and indulged her generous, romantic disposi- 
tion, in schemes for forwarding a nnion be- 
*tween Russell and Selina, determiuing to di- 
vide her fortune amongst the children of her 
friends. She concluded oue of her letters 
to lady Sarah Vivian, about this time, with 
these words : — 

" Could I but see one other pet-son, whom 
*' I must not name, rewarded for his virtues, 
** as you are, by happy love, I should die 
" content, and would write on my tomb : — r 
" Je ae fAs poinl heureax, mais j'ai fait IcDt bonheuT *." , 

Far removed from all romance, and all 
generosity of sentiment, lord Glistonbury, in 

* From some lines of Delille's, on Rousseau, coii> 
eluding wiih ttie following: — 




the mean time, went on very comfortabl 
without observing any thing that pa.ssed in 
bis family. Whatever uneasiness ohtnided 

- " Malheureux \ le tre|ia3 est done t 
Ah! dans la tombe, au moins, repose eufin tninquillel i 
Ce beau lac, ces flols purs, ces fleura, ces gaaons fraia, 
Ces pales peupliers, louL I'invite i la pais. 
Respire, doiit, enfin, de tea trisies chimeres. 
Vols nccuurir vers toi les epoux, et les mSres. 
Conieniple les amans, qui viennent chaijuc jour, 
Verser sur ton tombeau les larmes Ue I'amour! 
Vois ce groupe d'eiiraoB, se Jouant sous I'ombrage, 
Qui de leur liberie vienneiit te reiidre homniage, 
Et dia, eu contemptant ce spectacle enchanleur, 
Jc nefus point htireux, mats fat fait leiir bonlieur.' 

Ill-fated mortal ! doom'd, alas ! to find 
The grave sole refuge from lliy restless mind. 
This lurf, these flow'rs, this lake, this silent wave. 
These poplars pale, that murmur o'er your grave. 
Invite repose. — Enjoy the tranquil shore, 
Where vain chimeras shall torment no more! 
See to ihy lomb the wife and mother fly. 
And pour their sorrows where ihy ashea lie ! 
Here the fond youth, and here the blushing maid. 
Whisper ihtir loves lo thy congenial shades 
And- grateful children, smiling through their tears. 
Bless the Iot'J champion of (heir youthful years ; 
'l"hen cry, triumphant, from thy honouv'd grave— 7 
Joy!eM I liv'd, but jn^ to otkai gave. • (L& J 



VIVIAN. 3S3 

upon his attention he attributed to one 
cause — anxiety, relative to the question on 
which hia present thoughts were cxdusively 
fixed, viz. whether lady Sarnh's first child 
would be a hoy or a girl, " Heaven grant a 
boy ! " saiil his lordship ; " for then, yon 
know, there's an end of Martiiadnke, as 
heir at law ! " Whenever his lordship saw 
a cloud on the brows of lady Mary, of lady 
Sarah, or of Vivian, he had one infallible 
ehann for dispelling melancholy ; — he step- 
ped up close to the patient, and whispered — 
" Itwillbe ahoy! — My life upon it, it will 
be a boy!" Sometimes it happened, that this- 
universal remedy, applied at random, made 
the patient start, or smile; and then his lord- 
ship never failed to add, with a nod of great 
sagacity, "Ah I you didn't know I knew 
what you were thinking of ! — Well ! well V 
you'll see, we shall cut out Marmadnk& 
yet — ." 

With this hope of cutting out Marma-; 
duke, lord Gllstonhury went on very happily,, 
and every day grew fonder of the son-in-* 
law, who was the enemy of his heir at law, 
or whom he considered as such. The easi-'' 
ness of Vivian's temper was peculiarlyT 



J84 VIVIAN. 

agreeable to his lordship, who enjoyed thi 
daily pleasure of govermog a man of talenUy. 
which were far superior to his own : thi»i 
easiness of temper in our hero was mudL 
increased by the want of motive and stima-<>j 
las. He thought that he now had lost hi» 
chance of happiness ; he cared little for tho. 
more or less pain of each succeeding dayj- 
and, so passive was his listlessness, that^l 
to a superficial observer, like lord GlistoO'V 
bury, it looked like the good nature of per-*' 
feet content. His lordship had always beei^i 
in the habit of indulging in what are called i 
convivial pleasures ; and as he had long* 
since found out, even at the first election, in 
■which he assisted our hero, that Vivian 
could be a good companion, he did not fail 
now to press him frequently into tlie ser- 
vice: Vivian, in the artificial spirits raised 
by wine, found some temjMjrary relief to his 
nnhappiness, and indulged more and more 
in a vice, which he had formerly detested, 
and to which he had never been naturally 
disposed. The remonstrances of his mo- 
ther and of his wife were anavailing. He 
reproached himself^ he felt his degradation ; 
but his own reproaches were too feeble^ and 



V I V 1 A N- ;J8.> 

-■1» hftd lost that friend, whose eloqiK-nce 
Hsed'to animate him to txertioii, and to in- 
spire him with ronlidcnct. Poor Vi- 

fiaii! — III this wreck of his happiness, one 
saving chiiiK'e, howevi^r, yet ri'mained. He 
Tiad still ii puljlic character ; he ivHS ron- 
acious of having ])roserved unblemished in- 
tegrity, as a member of the senate : and this 
integrity, still more than his oratorical ta- 
lents, raised liiin far above most of his com- 
petitors, and in-eServed him not only in the 
opinion of others, hut in his own. When 
parliament met^ he went to town, took a 
very handsome liou'^e for lady Sarah, deter- 
mining to ilo all he conhi to oMige and 
please the wife, whom he conkl not love. 
Lady Sarah had complete -jjower, at liome 
and abroad, of her time and her exjicnses : 
her dress, her equipages, her servants, her 
whole establishment, were above Vivian's 
fortune, and equal to her hidvship's birth 
and rank. She was mistress of every filing 
bnt of bis heart. The less he liked her, 
liie more he endeavonred to compensate for 
this involimtaiy fault, by allowing her that 
absolute dominion, and that external splen- 
dour, which he thought would gratify, and, 

VOL. 



am VIVIAN. 

perha^, fiU lier nii^4- As for liimiel^ k» 
took refuge in the hpus? uf conatnons. 
I'hcre he forgot, for & time, domestic UDeasJt*'. 
neas, aod was trul^^ aaimated by what sa 
many affect — zeal for the good of his couik 
try. He was jiroud to recollect, that thtri 
profligate Whartoo had failed in tlu; atk: 
tempt to laugh him out of his pnblio virtaet- 
he was proudj that Wharton's projiheciea ofi 
hi& apostacy had never been accomplished^ 
tlia^, as a public character at lea^t, he had|i 
fulfilled the promise of lii^ early youth* an^ 
wa^ still worthy of bims^fi and of thatf 
Iriend, whom he h^d lost, He chiog to thw 
idea, as. to the only hope left him in li&i. 
Lojrd Gli&tonbury could not, in the least, ud*i 
^rstand or eater into hi& notions ahooA 
public vittuc; looked npou them, all an 
mere remains of school themes and ceJIegtt 
reading, of which lie wondered, that Vivia^ 
had not got rid by this time, and of whidv 
he was peLSuuded that a little more knon^ 
ledge of the world woukl soon obliterate 
every trace. His lordship, howevicr, wab 
rather pleased by this patriotism in his soa- 
itl-law, not otdy becaose it gave hiia a sense' 
oi, his. owji sBpetiority over thj^^es^ tHam- 



VIVIAN. 387 

a senator, but because it also fortvardetl 
llis political vietrs. I'atriotisiQ wa^ to be 
hU cry, his watcliword, as one of the leaders 
«rf opfwsition ; and any one who ronld even 
set the character ot' ii pntriot plausibly, was 
©f valoe to his party ; how nmch more ra- 
Inable, then, the honest orator, who, being 
teally in earnest, could snrpass the mero 
Political actor in the power ot tonchtng and 
^oremiiig the public mind 1 Lord Gliston- 
■ bury one day i-cniarked, in comparing Vi* 
viaii's speaking :uid Marmaduke Lidbarst'sj 
*' They both seem to speak equally well — 
equally good argnnient -^ equally good 
langiiagf?; birt there is a raciness, in my son- 
in-law's eloquenccy which there is not in my 
nephew's — 'They midce a very different im- 
pression an the house, and I really do not 
well know why, except that Vivian is qnit^ 
in earnest, and that Lidimrst ii considered 
cnly as — as — as one of as." 

Mr. Mariiiadiikc Lidhurst now acted 

along with his uncle, and joined his party 

in politics, upon condition, that his lordship 

r should, on tlic lirst occasion, procure for 

I him a certain lucrative office, on which his 

I mind was fixed. In this hope, he gave op^ 



388 V I V 1 A N. 

or a#i:cted to relinquish, all vieir to Lis 
uncle's estate ; lie often said iie liojicd lady 
Sarah's child would he a hoy, and he shonld 
not envy Vivian his good fortune; but, iii 
sirite of his dissimulation, he never could 
conquer his nncle's jealousy, or Vi>nan's 
dislike to the cold selfishness and political 
craft of his character. Vivian, however, 
saw and estimated hts abilities ; and the sort 
of rivalship of talents, which arose between 
them, was advantugeons, as it stimulated 
our hero to exertion. 

One night, in a debate in the house of 
tomnions, on some question of importance, 
hc'iiiadu iiQ excellent speech, which was 
particularly well received by tlie house, 
(^ause it came troni one, who had an unhl&< 
ttiished cliaracter. When Vivian went ii 
the cofiee-rooui, to refresh himself, after 1] 
had done speaking, several ftf his acqnaiiil 
aurc crowded round him, coniplinicntinj 
him upon his success — he broke from t 
nil ; for he saw, advancing towards hiu 
with a smile of approbation, the friend, i 
whose a}>probation he set a higher 
than he did even on the apphuises of thc^l 
house — the Iricud, whose lost a^ection h*l 



L- 



VIVIAN. 389 

had so long and so bittetly. regretted." Ru^ 
sell stretched out his band — Vivian eaj^rerly 
seisBed.it; and^ before they had either of 
them spoken one word, they both nnder-f 
stood each other perfectly, and their recon- 
ciliation was completely effected. 

" Yes," said Russell, as tliey walked out 
arm in arm together, " Yes, it is fit that 
I should forget all private resentment, in 
the pride and pleasure I feel, not merely in 
your public success, but in your public vir- 
tue — Talents, even the rare talent of ora- 
tory, you know, I hold cheap, in compari-* 
son with that, which is so far more rare> vlh 
well as more valuable — political integrity; 
The abhorrence and contempt of political 
profligacy, which you have just expressed, 
as a member of the senate, and the con- 
sistent conduct, by which you have sup- 
ported your principles, are worthy, of you ; 
and, allow me to say, of your education/' 

Vivian felt exalted in his own opinion by 
such praise, and by these the warmest ex- 
pressions he had ever received of RusselPs 
regard — He forgot even his domestic un- 
easiness ; and this day, the first for many 
months he had spent happily, he passed 



Wm VIVIAN. 

with his friend. They supped together; 
and related mntualty all that happened 
since their parting. Kttssell told Vivian, 
that lie had lately been a^eeably surprised 
by the gift of a valuable living from the 
bishop of •«#*«*, Jady Julia Lidhurst's 
uncle; diat the bishop, whom he had tilt 
then never seen, hiid written to him in the 
handsomest manner, saying, that he kne^¥■ 
the obligations his family owed to Mr. Rns- 
acU ; that it had been the dying reqnest of 
his nejdiew, lord Lidhurst, that some token 
of the family esteem and gratitude shonld 
be offered to him, to whom they owed so 
iDDcIi ; but, the bishop added, that neither ^ 
family gratitude, nor private friendship, 
could have induced him to bestow chorch 
preferments upon any but the person, whose 
ehararter best entitled him to such a die- 
tlnction and such a tmst, 

Thia letter, as Vivian observed, was well 
calculated to satisfy RuKsell's conscionce 
and his deiicrtcy. 'I'lie conversation next 
tamed upon lady Julia Lidbni-st, Kussell 
was not aware, that Vivian knew more of 
her attat.^hment to hini, than what had Iwen 
discoxered tfae day before he left Gliston- 



r " ■■ 

VIVIAN. 391 

btiry; and Vivian could not help admiring 
the honountble and delicate manner ia 
wbich his friend spoke of her, withont nny 
air of mystery, and with the greatest re- 
spect. He told Vivian he had heard, that 
proposals had been lately made to her lady- 
ship by a jrentleman of great talents and of 
high character J \mt that she ha«l positively 
declined his addressee, and had repeated het 
declaration, that she wotdd never marry. 
Her good nncle left her, on this point, ett- 
lirely at liberty, and did Hot mention thfe 
pro]>osal to lord Gliatonbuiy, Icat she Rbould 
be exposed to any fresh difficidtiei. Russell 
expressed much satisfaction at this part of i 
the bishop's conduct, as being not only the 
most kind, but the most judicious, and the 

I most likely to dispose his niece to change 
her determination. He repeated ius opi- 
nion, that, united to a man of sense and 
strength of mind, she would make a charm-- 
ing and excellent wife. Vivian agreed with 

I him; yet observed, that he was convinced 
she wouid never marry— —There be paused 
— Could lady JuHa herself have over- 
heard the conversation which afterwardj 
passed between these two gentlemen, one 



of whoin she had loved, and the other ol 
whom she had refused, not a word would 
have hurt her feelinfis : on the contrary, she 
would have been raised in her opinion, and 
giatified hy the strouf^ interest they both 
showetl for lier hiipjiiness — They regretted 
only, that a young woman of sncb talents^ 
and of such aline, generous disposition, had 
been so injudiciously edncated. 

" And now, my dear Russeil!" cried Vi? 
vian, " that we have finished the chapter of 
lady Julia, let us talk of miss Sidney."— 
Russell's change of countenance showedj 
that it was not quite so easy for him to talk 
upon this subject — Tospiire him the effort] 
Vivian rcsnmed. i 

" As you are a rich man now, my dear 
Russell, you will certainly marry ; and 
know," added he, smiling, " that miss Sid- 
ney will be your wife. If ever man deri 
^icrved such a prize, you do ; and I shall bb 
the first to wish yon joy." < 

" Stay, my good friend," intermpted Rua- 
Bell, " your kindness for me, and yourima-* 
gination, are too quick in this anticipatioa 
of my happiness." -^ Russell then told him, 
that he never had declared his attachment 



k 



VIVIAN. 393 

.to Selina, till Vivian's marri:ige had put no. 
end to all probability of rividsliip with bis 
iriend. She had expressed high esteem lor 
Jtnssell, but bad told him, tlutt she had sut'i 
fered so much from a first unfovtviiiiite at- 
tachment, that she felt averse from any new 
engagements. 

~ " Shalt I assure you, as you assured me 
just now, with regard to lady Julia," said 
.Vivian, " that miss Sidney will be prevailtd 
npon to alter her determination; and shall 
I add, that, though I should like lady Julia 
the less, I should like Selina the better, fpc 
changing her mind." — He went on, gene- 
rously expressing sincere hojies, "that his 
kfriend might obtain Selina Sidney's attecv 
^ons, and might enjoy that domestic hapjii- 
ness, which .'" 

Vivian was going to aay, " wliich be liad 
himself forfeited ;" bnt, therkingthis regix't, 
he only said — "that domestic happiness, 
3vhich I consider as the summit of human 
felicity, and which ne man can deserve bet- 
ter than you do, my dear Russell." 

Russell easily guessed, that poor Vivian 
had not attained this summit of human fc- 
Jicity by his own raarrif ^Vf 



r 



9$4 V I V I A K. 

kind and too jacHcious a friend to say a 
word, that could give him pain on this 
delicate snbject. He never adverted to any 
of the conversations they had held about 
lady Sai-ali Lidhnrst; never recalled any of 
Vivian's vehement declarations concerning 
the absolute impossibility of his making 
auch a match ; never evinced the least sur- 
prise at his marriage; nor inquired how he 
had conquered his pas^^ion for lady Julia. 
With friendly foi^etfulness, he seemed tOi 
have totally obliterated from hie mind all 
that it could do no good to remember. Vi- 
vian was sensible of this delicacy, and grate- 
ful for it; but to imitate Uussell'a reservft 
and silence, n})on certain subjects, required 
a force, a forbearance, of which he was not 
capable. At first, he had determined not 
to say one word to Russell of domestic un- 
easinesses 1 but they had not been many hours 
together, before Vivian poured forth all hi» 
complaints, and confessed how bitterly be 
repented his marriage : he declared, that h* 
had been persuaded, by the united efforts 
of her family and of his mother, against his 
own judgment, or, at least, against his tatt* 
and inclinations, to marry lady Sarah. 



VIVIAN. 395 

*' By whatever persuasions, or by what* 
ever motives, your choice was decided," 
intemiptcd Russell, " reflect, that it is de- 
cided for life ; therefore, abide by it, and jus- 
tify it. — Above all, make yourself happy 
with the means, which are yet in your power, 
instead of wasting your mlud in imavailing 
regret. — You are united to a woman, who 
has every estimable qnality, aa you candidly 
acknowledge : there are some particulars, ia 
which she does not please your taste ; hut 
■withdraw yonr attention from these, and 
yoii will be happy with a wife, who is so 
firndy attached to you. Consider, besides, 
that — romance ajiart — love, though a de- 
lighttial passion, is not the only reaonrce, 
which a man of sense, virtue, and activity, 
may find for happiness — Yonr public du- 
ties, yonr success, and your repivtatiou a* 

a public character, will ." 

Russell was interrupted, in this cousola- " 
tory and invigorating speech, by the eii» 
trance of a servant of lord Glistonbury's, 
who brought a note from bis lordehip to 
Mr. Vidian, requesting to see bini as soon ap 
he could make it convenient to come t^ 
Olistonbury House, as his lordship wanted 



■, SW VIVIAN. 

to speak to him on particular business of tlie 
greatest importance. Vivian was provoked 
by being tbiis summoued away Crom Lis 
friend, to atteud to one of what lie called 
lord Glistonbnn"'s important mi/ster!es about 
nothing Russell was engaged to go iuto 
the country the ensuing day, to take pos- 
iesslon of his new living; but he promised, 
that he would see him again soon; and, 
with this hope, the two friends parted. 

Vivian went to lord Glistonbury's : he 
found his lordship in his study. " W^here 
have you been, Vivian ! " exclaimed he ; "I 
have sent messenger after messenger to look 
for yoH, half over the town ; I thought yoii 
were to have dined with us, but you ran 
away, and nobody could tell where, or with 
whom ; and we iiave been waiting for you, 
at our cabinet council here, with the utmost 

impatience." Vivian answered, that he 

had unexpectedly met with his friend Rus- 
sell J and was proceeding to tell his lordr 
ship how handsomely the bishop of ****** 
bad i)rovided for his friend ; but lord GUs' 
tonbnry, like many other great men, having 
the habit of forgetting all the services of 
those, from whom they have nothing more 



to ejcpect, cut short Viviau's narration, Ijy 
excl aiming — ' , 

I "True, tmel well, well I thiit's ail over, 
'now — Certainly, tliat Russell did his duty 
■by my poor son ; and acted as lie ought to 

do in all things ; and I'm glad to hear 

my brother has given liiin a good living ; and 
i hope, as yon say, he will soon be luarried — . 
so best, so best, yon know, Viviun, for reaT- 
sons of our own — Well! well! I'm glad 
he is provided for — not bnt what that liv- 
ing would have been of essential service, if 

it had been reserved for a friend of mine 

bnt my brother the bishop never can enter 
into any political views — might as well 
not have a brother a bishop But, how- 
ever, Mr. Russell's a friend of yours — I am 
not rcgi'etting — ■ not bo rude to you to re- 
gret on the contrary, rejoice, particu- 
larly as Mr. Russell is a man of so much 
merit — But all that's over now; and I 
want to talk to you upon quite another 
matter. — Yon know I have alwaya said 1 
should, sooner or later, succeed in my grand 
object, Hey, Vivian f " 

" Your lordship's grand object ? — I am 
not sure that I know it." 



^ 



39t VIVIAN. 

" Oh ! surely yon know my grand ob^ 
ject f You my son-in-law, and forget my 
grand object? — The marqnisate, yon km 
the marquisate, the marqnisate! — Did not 
I always tell yon, that I would make 
government, sooner or later, change m^ 
earldom into a marqnisate? — Well! the 
thing is done— that is, as good as donei 
they have sent to treat with me npon my 
own terms." 

*' I give yon joy, my dear lord!" said 
Vivian. 

"Joy! — to be Mire yon do, my sober sir: — - 
one wonld think you had no concern or in- 
terest in the business. — Joy! to be snre yoa 
^ve me joy; but, I can tell yon, you must 
give me something more than joy — yoo' 
must give me support." 

'* How he looks ! " continued lord Giiston- 
bury, " as if he did not know what is meant 
by support. Vivian, did yon never hear of 
parliamentary snpport?" 

" I hope, my dear lord," replied Vivian 
gravely, " that yon have not entered ioto 
any engagements, or made any promises 
for me, which 1 cannot have it in my 
power to perform." 



VIVIAN. 399 J 

Lord Glistonbnry hesitated in som« con- I 
fiision ; and then, forcing a look of eilVontery, II 
in an as«red tone replied — j 

" No. I have not made any engage- 
ments or promises for yoii, wliicli you can- , 
not perform, Vivian, I am clear; nor any, ^ 
which I have .not a right to expert my son- 
' in-law will confinn with alatrrity." ' 

" What have you engaged? — what have 
yoa promised for me, my lord?" said Vi- 
vian earnestly. , 
" Only, my dear ijoy," ?aid lord GHaton- 
I bury, assuming a facetious tone, " only that 
you will be aiwaya one of us — And are not 
you one of us? — my son-in-law! — the dense 
is in it, if he is not one of us !■ — In short, yoit 
know, to be serious, a party must go to- , 
gether, that is, a family party must go to- 
gether; and, if niinisiry do my business, 
of coai-se I do theirs. — If I have my mar- 
quisate, they have my votes." 

*' But not my vote — pardon me, my lord , 
— my vote cannot be bartered in thit , 
manner." 

" But, yoH know, Mr. \'ivian, you know j 
it is for your iaterestj as mnth as for mine ; \ 
for, yoQ know, the raarcjuisate will probably i 



400 V I V J A N, 

descenc], in due course of time, to your son. 
— So your interest is full as inurb con- 
cerned as mine ; and, besides, let me teU 
you, I have not forgot your inunediate in- 
terest; I have stipulated, that vou should 

have the valuable place, which Mr. C 

was to have had." 

All thiit Russell had said of public virtue 
was fresh in our hero's mind. — " I thank 
yoiij my dear lord," said he ; " for I am sure 
this was kindly intended — But 1 am not 
• one of those persons, who, in public af- 
fairs, think only of their private interest — 
I ain not tiiiukiug of mv interest." 

" So I perceive," said lord Glistonbury, in 
a tone of disappointment and displeasure. 
Without regarding this, Vivian proceeded^ 

" Not for this maiquisate, not for any 
title or rank in the gift of the crown, would 
I forfeit my honour, my principles, my 
public character." 

"Very fine, vastly well said; hnt not 
quite to the purpose, not precisely in 
point, I apprehend!" replied lord Glisten-' 
bury ; " for I do not see that a man's accept- 
ing a marquisate, or votuig with bis ma- 
jesty's ministere, necessarily imjilies a for- 



VIVIAN. 401 

■feitnre of honour and principle, and a total 
dereliction of all public reputation." 

" Far from it ! " cried Vivian ; *' yon snrely 
cannot imagine nie, my lord, to be capable 
of making so wild or absurd an assertion. 
Bat if a man opposes certain public mea- 
sures one day, and the next, for valuable 
consideration, supports diametrically oppo- 
site opinions and measures, he will lose, 
and deserve to lose, all reputation for in- 
tegrity." 

" Integrity ! political integrity 1 " said 
lord Glistonburyj " tine words, which mean 
nothing. Behind the scenes, as we are 
now, Vivian, what use can there be in talk- 
ing in that strain?— Between you and me, 
you know, this is all nonsense. For who, of 
any party, now thinks, really and truly, of 
any thing hut getting power, or keeping it ; 
■ — power, you know, stands for the measure 
of talent; and every thing else worth having 
18 included in that word, power. — I speak 
plainly^And, as honour is merely an affair 
of o])inion, and Qjiinion, again, an a(ftir of 
numbers, and as there are numbers enough 
to keep one in countenance in these things; 
really, my dear Vivian, it is quite childisl^. 



«0C VIVIAN. 

quite boyish, smells of the lamp. — To de- 
claim abont political intc^ity, and all that, 
is not the laii^age of a inmi, who knows 
any thing of business — any thing of the 

■world. But why do I say all this?" 

cried lord Ghstoidmry, checking himself 
and assuming an air of more reserrcd dis* 
pleasure. — " Mr. Vivian ccrtaiuly know* 
all this, as Mell as I do; I know how m^ 
nephew Marmaduke, who, with all bis 
faidts, is no foo), would interpret yonr pre- 
sent language : he would say, as I have 
often heard him say, that political iotcgrit^ 
is only a civil put off"." 

" Political integrity only a civil pnt offl* 
repeated Vivian, witli unfeigned astonish- 
ment. When he formerly heard simitar 
sentiments from the avowed profligate and 
hacknied politician, Mr. Wharton, he was 
shocked ; but, to hear them repeated, ai 
being coolly laid down by so young a maa 
»s Mr. Lidhnrst, excited Go mnch disgnst 
and contempt in Vivian's mind, that be 
could hardly refrain from saying more tbaa 
father pnidence or politeness could Justify. 

" Now, I am free to c-onfess," pursued lord 
Glistonbury, " that I shonld think it mor« 



VIVIAN. 403 

tundid and manly, and, I niil add, ihotb 
friendly, and more the nutorul, open con- 
duct of a soD-inlaw to a fatbcr-ifl-iaw, 
instead of talking of political integrity, to 
bave said, at OQce, I caunot obIig;e you in 
this iiistan<'e ." 

"Sorely, my lord, yon caiinot be in ear- 
nest ? " said Vivian, 

" J tell yoo, sir, I ain in earnest," cried 
his lordship, turning snddeiily, in a nige, 
lis he walked np and down the room; "I 
tay, it woukl have been more candid, mors 
manly, more every thing — <tnd much more 

Kke a son-in-law — much ! — much 1 1 

«m sure, if I had known as mach as I do 
BOW, sir, yon never ehould have been my 
*on-in-law — never ! never ! — seen lady Sa- 
rah in her grave first! — I would ! 1 would! 

•^yes, sir — 1 would 1 And you are the 

last person upon Earth I should iui\e ex- 
pected it from . — But 1 have a nephew — I 
have a nephew, and now I know the dif- 
ierence. — Nomancandistinguish his tiieuds, 
till he tries them — ." 

Vivian in vain endeavoured to appease 
lord Glistonbury by assurances, that he 
would do any thing in his power to oblige 



404 VIVIAN. 

him, except what he himself considered as 
liishonourable ; his lordship reiterated, witK 
divers passionate cjaciilatioDS, that, "if. 
Vivian would not oblige him in this point, 
on which he had set his heart — where ttw 
great object of his life was at stake — he could 
never believe he had any regard for him; 
and that, in short, it must come to an open 
rapture between them, for that he should 
never consider him more as his son.** 
Havingnttered the denunciation as distinctly 
as passion would permit, lord GlistcHibury 
retired to rest. i 

Vivian went immediately to his motheri 
to tell her what had piiased, and he felt al-- 
most secnre of Iier approbation ; but, though 
hhe praised him for his generous spirit of 
independence, yet it was evident the hopei 
that the title of marquis might descend 
to a grandson of her own weighed morA 
with her than any patriotic considerations. 
She declared, that, " indeed, she woidd not, 
for any title, or anything upon Earth, have 
her son act dishonourably ; but what wa«. 
asked of him, as far as she could under- 
stand, was only such a change of party', 
such compliances, as every public man, in 



V 1 V 1 A N. :ni.j 

|>lace, would make: and, tboagb she 
%oai<i i\'fi have bim, like some she i-onld 
Siittiie, SI corrojit tool of government, yet, on 
•the other hand, it was folly to expect, that 
he alone couhl do any thing against the ge- 
neral tide of comiption — that it would be 
madness in him to sarritice himself entirely, 
withoDft the slightest possibility of doing 
My good to his country." 
■ Vivian internipled her, to represent, that, 
if each public muii argued in this miinncr, 
nothing could ever be accomplished for the 
jniblic good: that, on the contrary, if every 
man hoped that something might he done, 
even by his indiviihial exertion, and if he 
,deterndned to sacritice a portion of his pri- 
vate interest in the attempt, perhaps much 
might be efl'ected. 

" Very likely I " lady Mary said. " She 
confessed she knew little of politics." So 
from argument she went to persuasion and 
entreaties — She conjured him not to quar- 
rel with the (ilistonlmries, and not to pro- 
ivoke lord Glistonbury's displeasure. " 1 see 
;dl that artful Marmadnke's schemes," said 
*he ; " he knows his uncle's pertinacious 



4M vrviAN. 

tcmiJer; and he hopes that yoor nolions 
patriotism n-ill jirevcat yon from yielding 
on a point, on wliich his uncle has set hifl 
heart. Miirmaduke will know liow to takd; 
advantage of all thi^, Lelieve me 

The more Viviiin resisted, the more eagwi' 
his mother hccamei til), at last, she worked 
herself np to tears, and declared, that sbu 
made it her own moat urgent request, whick 
she would repeat on her knees, if nothing 
else would move him, to give up hi* 
Quixotism. 

" Qnixotism ! " said Vivian : '"' Rtifisellj 
my friend and preceptor, would give my re- 
aolutioB a very diflerent name." 

Lady Mary replied, that she thcnight b«F 
opsnion, or, at least, her entreaties, oagiit 
to have more weight with him than tho». 
of any precejrtor, or other friend upon 
Earth. Now that it was a contest of powet 
and influence, hetween her ladyship and Rus' 
scU> she gre\r, if possible, still more vehe» 
ment. Vivian M-as shaken in his resoIntifA 
by his mother's entreaties — by the idea of 
all tlie family qnarrels that would ensue, 
and of all the diHiculties, in which he might 



VIVIAN. 407 

uxvolved, if he persisted in his generous 

I'determtnatioii. Lady Mary had still power- 
ftil argumeuts in store. 

• " Wy dear son," resumed she, ** it would 
be absolute iiiaduess, to refiise the place 

,&at is now o&red yon -^ only consider 
Oka sitnatioQ of yotir afihirs — consider, 1 

beseech you, the disti'ess you will be in by 
and by, if you reject this otter — Kecollect 
(ike iiumense demands upon you ; recollect 
that heap of bills for the election, and for 
the buildings, and all the poor workmen 

r About the castle ! and that coachmaker, too T 
aud remember, the ptirchuse money of the 
^use in town must be paid in three months. 
It h reidly impossible that you ean go on, 
fioless you accept of this place ; for yoa 
know, my dear Charles, I cannot assist yoa 
effectually, or most happy should I be to 
relieve you from all difficnlties, at whatever 
hazard or inconvenience. I woold willingly 
give up my hotree in town, and lay down 
my carriage — ," 

" No, no, my dear mother ! " ejcclaimed 
Vivian ; " you shall do no nmre ; you have 
already done infinitely too much ; and I 
cannot bear to think of the inconTcnience- 



^EttSi VIVIAN. 

to which your confiding generosity )ia» al- 
ready put yo«." 

"Don't think of that — don't speak of 
tliat, Charles ! — Between mother and son, 
you know, there can be no division oj' in- 
terest; and, if I know anything of myself, I 
shall always manage so as to prevent your 
feeling any uneasine»s on my account. When 
1 mentioned myself, I meant not to aJlndu 
to tile past, but only to regret, that, in 
future, 1 have no means of serving you as 1 
wish ; and, as to the Glistonhuries, you 
know, notwithstanding his great nooiinal 
income, he lives beyond it so far, that there 
is scai'tely a man in England, who M'ould 
fitul it more ilifticult to ruise a thonsandi 
pounds than lord Glistonhury. if yon disti 
oblige him now, you have no decent clainii [ 
upon him; and, besides, I cannot hear tli^. j 
idea of your asking such sort of pecuniary i 
favours from yonr wife's family. They ar* J 
all prond en<High, sorely, as it h, and suHi-rf'J 
ciently inclined to consider their connexion^ 
as n high honour to us. 'J'here is no oc- 
casion to ahase ourselves, by liecoming theic 1 
debtors. Indeed, to he in debt at all, or to \ 
any body, is a terrible thing '. " 



VIVIAN. 409 

*' A terrible thing, indeed!" said Vivian, 
vith a deep sigli. 

And the only possible means, by which 
you can get ont of debt, is by accepting 
this place, whicli wonhl put you at ease at 
once, and enable you to continue in the 
style of life, to which you have of late been 
sdcustomed." 

" As to that, I could alter my style of life 
' — I would do any thiug," cried Vivian, " to 
pay niy debts, and preserve my independ- 
ence. I will alter my mode of living, and 
[[iBtrench decidedly and vigorously." 

'* Well, my dear son, I admire your spirit ; 
ftnd, if yon can do this, it will certainly bo 
ilest ; but, I fear, that, when it conies to the 
'Jrial, you will not be alile to persevere." 

*' I shall — I shall — believe me, mo- 
tiier \ — 1 have resolution enough for this — 
Yon do me injustice," said Vivian. 

" No, my dear Charles, 1 do you justice; 
rfor I do not doubt your resolution, as far as 
^our own privations are concerned ; but, 
'■Consider your wife — consider lady Surah — 
consider tlie luxury in which she has always 
been accustomed to live, and the high sphere 
ifl which her relations move ! How her 



410 VIVIAN. 

pride would be hart, by their looking down 
upon her I — I have no donbt lady Sarah 
would do her duty, and make any sacrifices 

for her husband; and, if you were 1 

must now speak plainly — if yon were pas- 
sionately fond of her — an all-for-love hns- 
band— you could, udth honour and propriety, 
accept of such sacrifices ; but, what wonM 
retirement be to poor lady Sarah, and icifh 
lady Sarah I — with a companion, who has 
BO literature, and not that h^mte variety^ 

which Bat 1 am sore 1 do not mean to 

depreciate her in your eyes; she is a very 
estimable woman ; and I say no more, but 
leave you to your own rejections on that ■ 
Bidjject. If there was anything ahsoluteN 
dishonourable in yonr accepting this plai 
I am sure, Z would sooner perish, than nrf 
you to it; but, thongh 1 don't nmlers 
politics, I know enough of the world to fc 
certain, that very honourable men 
places, ■without any disgrace. So let i 
entreat yon, my dear son, to see things { 
they really are." 

Vivian told his mother, that he wotiU 
take a night to reconsider the matter cooll; 
and; satisfied with having gained so mucl^ 




VIVIAN. *11 

! snflfered hira to go Iioiiie. As he was 
iittiiig Uis own ilref sing-room, he paused, 
* consider, wbother he shoiild consult his 
, who -WAS, as vet, ill ignorance of the 
Fwiole transaction, and who knew nothing 
of the deranged state of his affairs. He did 
her the justice to believe, that she wotdd be 
willing to live with him in retirement, and 
to forego all the hixuries and pride of her 
rank, fiJr the sake of her duty, and of her 
love. He was convinced, that, in any ojjpo- 
sition between her father's interests and her 
Irasband's honour, she would strongly abide 
by her husband. Though lady Sarah knew 
nothing of politics, and though she had no 
enlargement of mind, or any ideas of public 
good, or patriotism, yet Vivian was well 
aware, that, if he could lay before her this 
simple proposition — " If I act so and so, I 
shall act contrary to my conscience and my 
honour ; and, if I act in the op|K>site man- 
ner, I shall do what 1 think riglit, and i 
shall preserve my honour" — she would 
say, " Do what vou think right, and preRurve 
yonr honour, let what will be the conse- 
quence." He recollected all lady Julia ttad 
Lthe advantage that her si'tci's 
T 2 



4ia VIVIAN, 

ness of mind might be, in steadyiug his v*p' 
cillating temper, in any moment of trial. 
Here was the first great occasion, since bis 
marriage, where his wife's strength of mind 
could be of essential service to him ; yet he 
hesitated whether he should avail himself 
of this advantage; and every moment, as 
he approached uearer to her apartment, he 
hesitated more and more. He did not, in 
the first place, like to hnmble himself so far, 
as to ask her counsel ; then he had not cou- 
rage to confess those debts and embarrass- 
ments, which he liad hitherto concealed. 
All that his mother had suggested about 
the indelicacy of rctjuiring or accepting 
great sacrifices from a woman, whon^ 
though he esteemed, he could not love — « 
the horrour of retirement, with such a con^r 
panion 1 — the long year's tete-Jl-tete ! 
all these ideas combined, but chief the ape 
prehension of the immediate present pain 
of speaking to her on a disagreeable subject;, 
and of being obliged to hear her speak 
irith that formal deliberation, which he de* 
tested — added to this, the dread of her sur- 
prise, if not of her reproaches, when all htf 
affairs should he revealed, operated so 



VIVIAN. 413 

sistibly upou his weakness, that he decided 
on the common resource — concealment. 
His hand was upon the lock of his chamber 
door, and he turned it cautiously and softly, 
lest, in entering his apartment, lie should 
waken lady Sarah : but she was not asleep. 
" What can have kept you so late, Mr. 
Vivian ? " said she. 

" Business, my dear," answered he, with 
some embarrassment. 

" May I ask what sort of business ? " • 
" Oh ! — only — political business." 
"Political business 1" — she looked ear- 
nestly at her husband, but, as if repressing 
her cnriosity, she afterwards added — " Oni 
sex have nothing to do with politics," and, 
turning away from the light, she composed 
herself to sleep. 

" Very true, my dear," replied Vivian — ■ 
not a word more did he say : content with 
this evasion of the difficulty, he thus, by his 
M'eakness, deprived himself of the real ad- 
vantage of his wife's strength of mind. 
Whilst lady Sarah, in total ignorance of 
the distress of her husband, slept in peace, 
he lay awake, revolving painftil thoughts, 
in the silence of the night. All that his 



W 4I«* VIVIAN. 

I uiotter liad t-aid aboot the pecuniary di(H^ 
f cullies, to whicli they mtist soon be reduced, 
recurred with fresh torce ; the ideas of the 
unpaid election bills ; all (be masons', car- 
penters', painters', glaziers', and npholster-t 
ers' biils, with — " Thousands yet unnamed 
behind " — rose in dreadful array before 
him, and the enthusiasm of bis patriotism' 
was appalled. With feverish reiteration, he 
ran over and over, in bis mind, the same^' 
circle of difficulties, coHtianally retxirning to 
the question, "Then, what can he done?" 
Bitterly did he, tliis night, regret the foolish 
expenses, into which he had early in life , 
been led.— " If it were to do over again^ 
he certainly would not turn his hon^e inttt 
a castle ; if he had foreseen how much the 
expense would surpass the estimates, aa- 
suredly, nothing could have tempted him to 
such extravagance. The architect, the ma- 
sons, the workmen, one and all, were 
knaves ; hut, one and all, they most be palA. 

■ ■ Tlien what could he do ? — And th« 

debts incurred by the contested elections ! — 
Contested elections are cursed things, when 
the bills come to be paid; but, cursed or not, 
they most be paid Then what could he 



VIVIAN. 415 

do f'*^— The (listi'ess In which he should in- 
volve, his generous mother — the s-acrifices 
he should require from his wife — the fa- 
mily (jnaiTels — all timt lady Sarali would 
vaSev from them — the situation of his 

wife Then what could he do ? — He 

MUST submit to lord Gltatonlmiy, and-take 
the place, that was oBered to him." 

Vivian sighed — andtnrnedinhisbed — aud 
sighed — and thought — and turned — and 
sighed again — and — the last sigh of ex- 
piring patriatism escaped biin ! -To this 

vaAy to this miserable end, mnst all patviotism 
eoEie, which is not gnpported by the seem* 
ingly inferior virtues oi' prudence and ^co^ 
B.OBiy'. ' 

Poor Vivian endeavoured to comfort him-* 
self by the reflection, that he should not act 
from merely mercenary considerations; but 
that be was compelled to yield to the soli- 
citations of bis mother and of his father-in- 
law ; that he was forced to sacrifice his owa 
public opinions to secure domestic peace, and 
to prevent the distress of his mother, the mi- 
sery, aud perhaps danger, of his wife and child. 
Dereliction of principle, in these circum- 
stances, was something like an amiable, a 



L 416 viviA> 

jiardonable weakness. — And then, see it 
in wliat light yon will, as lord Glistonbury 
observed, " there are so many, who will 
keep a patriot in countenance, nowadays, 
for merely changing sides in politics. — A 
man is not even thought to be a man of ta- , 
lents, till he gets something by his talents. 
— The bargain he makes, the price he gains^ 
is, in most people's estimation, the value of 
the public man." 

All this Vivian said la himself to quiet 
his conscience ; and all this, he knew, would 
be abuudantly satisfactoiy to the generality, 
©f people, with whom he associated ; there-t 
fore, from them he could fear neither rfr. 
proach nor contempt ; but lie could not bear 
even to think of Russell — he felt all the pangs 
©f remorse, and agony of shame, as the idea 

of such a friend came into his mind. \ 

Again he turned in his bed, and groaned 
-•tloud — so loud, that lady Sarah wakened, 
and, starting up, asked what was the mat-I 
ter; but, receiving no answer, she imaginec^ 
ihat siie had been in a dream, or that her 
husband had spoken in his sleep. He^^ 
groaned no more, nor did he even sigh). 
but, fatigued with thinking and wit h fa 



VIVIAN. 417 

ing, he at last fell iiitb a sort of slumber, 
which lasted till it was time to rise. Before 
Vivian was dressed, lord Glistonbury called 
upon him — he went into his dressing-room. 
His lordship came with his best address, 
and most courteous face of persuasion ; he 
held out his hand, iu a frank and cordial 
manner, as he entered, begging bis dear 
son's pardon for the warmth and want of 
temper, " he was free to confess, he had 
shown last night ; but he was persuaded," 
he said, " that Vivian knew his sincere re-' 
gard for him, and convinced, that, in short, 
they should never essentially differ; so tliat 
he was determined to come to talk the mat- 
ter over with him, when they were both 
cool; and that he felt assured, that Vivian, 
after a night's reflection, Avould always act 
so, as to jnstify his preference of his son-in- 
law to his nephew, Hey, Vivian ? " — Lord 
Glistoi(bury paused for an answer — Vivian ' 
cut himself, as be was shaving, and was ' 
glad of a moment's reprieve ; instead of an- " 
swering, he only exclaimed, " Cursed razor 1 

cut myself! My lord, won't yon sit 

•down, if you do me the honour to " 

Lord Glistonbury seated himself; and, in ' 
T 5 



Jkii VIVIAN. 

regular order, ivith bis tiresome parade of 
expletives, went through all the ai^ments^ 
that conld he adduced, to prove the expe- 
diency of Vivian's taking this place, aud as- 
sisting liiiu, '* us he had taken it for grantedl 
his son-in-law woald, oil snch an occasion.' 
The letters of the great aod little men, wW 
had negotiated the basiness of the marqui- 
sate, were then produced, and an account 
given of all that had passed in confidence f 
and lord Glistonhnry finished hy saying^ 
" that the iifiair was absolutely concluded,' 
he having passed his word, and pledged his. 
honour, for Vivian — that he would not 
have spoken or acted for him, if he had not; 
felt, that he was, when acting for his son-^ 
in-law, in fact, acting for himself — his se^. 
cond Belf — that there had been no time to 
wait, no possibility of consulting Vivian — 
that the whole plan was suggested yesteri 
day, iu two hours afttn- the bonse broke op, 
and was arranged in tlie evening — that 
search aud inquiries hud been made everj| 
where for Vivian, hut, as he could not btf 
found," lord GUstonbury said, " he had( 
ventnred to decide for him, and, as he hoped] 
for his interest, and for that of the family — 



^^^V VIVIAN. 419 

P and the thii^, now dune, could not be an- 
done — Lis lordship's word was sacred, and 
could not be retracted," 
Viviiui, ia a feeble, irresolnte tone, asked 
R if there wasno possibiiity of his being allow- 
ed to decliue the place that was oftered him, 
and suggested, tliat he could take a middle 
course ; to avoid voting against his lordship'3 
wishes, he conld, and he believed that he 
would, iLCcept of the CliUteru Hundreds, 
and go out of parliament for tlie session. 

Lord Glistonbury remonstrated against 

what he termed the raa{hiess of this scheme. 

" A man like you, my dcat Vivian, who 

have distinguished yourself so much already 

. in opposition, who will distinguish yourself 

so much more, hereafter, in place and in 

power. " 

"No!" — said Vivian, rising as he fi- 
nished shaving himself — "No, my lord, 
I shall nevei' more distinguish myself, if I 
abandon the pi-inciplcs 1 believe to be just 
,aBd true. — What elotjuenre I have, if I 
. have any, has arisen from my being in 
earnest ; — I shall speak ill — I shall not 
be able to speak at all — when 1 get nj» 
against ray conscience ! " 



" Oh!" said lord Glistonbury, laughing; 
" your romantic patriotism may he very 
nice in it's feelings ; but, believe me, it will 
not deprive you ot" the use of your speech. 

— Look at every one of the fine orators of 
our times, and name me one, if you can, 
who has not spoken, and spoken equally 
well, on both sides of the house ; ay, and 
on both sides of most political questions. — 
Come, come ! you'll find you will get on 
quite as well as they got on before you — 
Hey?" 

" You will find, that I shall be of no use 
to you — that I shall be a dead weight on 
your handle ." 

" You a dead weight! yon, who are 

formed to be now, really, without flat- 

tL'ry, yoii know there's no occasion for flat- 
tery between you and me — to be the soul, 
and, in time, the head of a party Stay ! 

— I know all you are going to say, but 
give me leave to judge — You know there's 
my own nephew, a very clever yoxing man, 
HO doubt, he is allowed to be j and yet, you 
see, I make no comparison between you. — 
I assure you, I am a judge in these matters, 
and you see the house has confirmed my 



VIVIAN. 431 

judgment ; and, what is more — fori can 
keep nothing from you — if it won't make 
yoa too vain, and make you set too high a 
■price upon yourself, which will he very 
troublesome in the present case ; hat, I say, 
be that as it may, I will frankly own to you, 
that I helieve you have been of essential 
service in procaring me this great, favourite 
object of my life, the marquisate." 

" I ! my lord, impossible ! — for I never 
took the slightest step toward procur- 
ing it." 

" Pardon me, you took the most eftectual 
step — without knowing it, perhaps. — You 
spoke so well, in opposition, that you made 
it the interest of ministry to muzzle you ; 
and there was no way so effectual of get- 
ting at you, as through me, I being your 
father-in-law, and you my heir. — Yon 
don't see the secret concatenation of these 
things with a glance, as I do, who have- 
been used to them so long. — And there 
was no way of coming to the point with 
me without the marc[nisate, that was my. 
sine qud non; and you see I gained my 
point — by your means, chiefly, I am free 
, to allow — though Marmaduke would 



a 



r 



4tl VIVIAN. 

gladly persuade me it was bj his negotiati. 
ing; — bat I do you justice ; I did you JBxi 
tke, too, in more thaa wm-ds, when 1 sti-' 
pnlirted for that place for yon, which, in 
fact, I knew yoii could not s;o on mucb 
longer without, — So, my dear Vivian, alt 
this explained, to oar motuid satisfaetion^ 
we have nothing more to do, bnt to shake 
hands upon it, and go down stairs; for I 

have engaged myself and secretary to 

breakfast with you, and he has Jhll powers^ 
and is to cany back our capitulation — > 
And," continued lord Glistonbury, looking 
ont of the window — " here's our friend's 

carriage ." 

" Oh t my lord, it is not yet too late !" 
tried Vivian ; " it may yet be arranged 
otherwise — Is there no way — no possi- 

bihty? " 

A thundering knock at the hoose door. 

'^ I wish to Heaven, my lord ! " 

r • " So do 1 wish to Heaven, with all my 
■ sogI, that you would Hnish this nonsense, 
ray dear Vivian, and come down to break- 
fast — Come, come, come ! — Hey, hey, . 
hey! — Tliis is ahsolntely too ridiculous, 
and I must go, if you don't. Only con- 



VIVIAN. 423 

sider'a political breakfast of tbU ua- 

tare ." 

Lord Glistoobury han-ied down stairs ; 

reluctantly, and with a hea\y heart 

and repugnant conscience, Viviaa followed. 
At this instant, he wished for Rossell, to 
prevent what he knew wonld be the con- 
sequence of this interview. — But Russell 
was absent — the keeper of his conscience, 
the supporter of liis resolution, was not at 
hand — Wo to him, who is not the keeper 
of his own conscience — the supporter of 

his own resohition! The result of this 

political breakfast was just what every 
reader, who kno^vs the worhf but half as 
well as lord Ghstonbuiy knew it, has pro- 
bably long since anticipated. The cEipitn- 
lation of tlie patriots of the Ghstonbury 
band, with Vivian at their head, waa 
settled. Lord Glistonbury lost no charac- 
ter by this Irausact'ion, for he had noue to 
lose — he was ([uite at his ease, or t^iite 
callous. But Vivian bartered, for a paltry 
accommodation of his pecuniary difficulties, , 
a reputation, which stood high in the poh-- 
lie opinion — which was iuvalnable in bie- 
own — which was his last stake of happi- 



i 



ma* VIVIAN, 

ness. — He knew tliis — he felt k, with all^ 
the anguish of exquisite, hut useu^ss sen- 
sibility. 

Lord Glistonbury and his new friend,- 

secretary , who was a man of wit,; 

as well as a pohtician, rallied Vivian upon. 
his gravity, and upon his evident depression 
of spirits. 

"Really, my dear Vivian!" cried lord 
Glistonbury, " my patience is now ex- 
hausted, and I must not let you expose 
yourself here, before our friend, as a novice — 
Hey ! hey ! — Why, will you never open 
your eyes, and see the world as it is ? — 
Why ! what ! — Did you never read , the 
fable of tlie dog and his master's meat? — 
Well ! it is come to that now in England t 
and he is a.foolish dog, indeed, who, when 
he can't save the meat, won't secure his 
share — Hey ? " 

His lordship and the secretary laughed 
in concert. 

" Look, hoiv Vivian presen'es his solem- 
nity!" continued lord Glistonbury; "and 
he really looks as if he was surprised at us. 
My dear Vivian! it requires all my know- 
ledge of your bonne foi to believe, that you 



VIVIAN. 425 

arfe in earnest, and not acting the part of 
a patriot of older times." 

"Oh!" cried the secrclary, with a face- 
tions air — " Mr. Viviau assuredly knows, 
as well as we do, that 

' A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age. 
Whom all lord chamberlains alloiv tlie s'.uge.' 

But off' the stage we lay aside heroics, or 
how should we ever get on ? — Did you 
hear, my lord," continued the secretary, 
turning to lord Glistoubury, " that there i* 
another hlue riband fallen in to us by the 

. death of lord G * * * ? " 

" I had a great regard for poor lord 
Q # * *. — Many applications, I suppose, 

for the vacant riband ? " 

From the vacant riband, they went on to 

■ talk over this man's pension and the other . 
man's job ; and considered, who was to 
get such and such a place, when such and 
such a person should resign, or succeed to 
something better. — Then all the miserable 
mysteries of ministerial craft were unveiled 
to Vivian's eyes — He had read, he had 
heard, he had believed, that public affairs 
were conducted in this manner ; but ha , 



L4aA VIVIAN. 

had nfver, till now, actoally seen h: -ho- 
was reiilly novice enough still to feel sur- 
prise at fisding, that, after all the 6oe pro- 
Tessions made on all sides, the main, ths 
only ohject of these poUticians, was to ke^ 
their own, or to get into the places of 
others. Vivian felt every moment his dis- 
gust aud hih melancholy increase " And 

it is with these people I have consented 
to act 1 And I am to he hnrried along, 
by this stream of corruption, to infamy and 

oblivion — -Then Russell ! .'* 

Vivian resolved to retract the engage- 
ment he had just made with lord Gliston- 
bury and the secretary, and he waited only 
for a pause in their conversation to explain 
himself. Butj before any pause occiirred, 
more company came in, the secretary hnr- 
ried away, saying to Vivian, who wonld 
have stopped him at the door-: — 

" Oh I my dear sir, every thing is settled 
now, and you must be with us in the house 
to night — and you will find the whole bu- 
siness will go on as smoothly as possible, 
if gentlemen will but act together (ind 
strengthen the hands of g-ovenmieut. — I 
pardott-for lareaking away— lmj^_, 



^ 



VIVIAN. 



427 



many people are waiting for me — and any 
thing farther we can settle when we meet 
in the honse.** 

Lord Glistombnry atsQ refused to listen 
to farther explanations — said that all was 
settled, and that it was impossible to make 
any recantations. 




CHAPTER XV. 



1 



►The hour of going to the house of com- 
mons at length arrived; lord Glistonbury 
saw that Vivian was so much out of spirits, 
and in such conftision of mind, he begao 
to fear that our hero's own account of him- 
self was just, and that he would not be able 
to commaod ideas, or even words, when he 
was to speak in opposition to what he 
called his principles and his conscience. — 
"This son of mine, instead of being our 
great ApoUo, will be a dead weight on our 
hands, unless wc can contrive to raise his 
spirits ." 

So, to raise his spirits, lord Glistonbury 
accompanied him to the coffee-room of the 
house, and insisted upon his taking some re- 
ireshment before he should attempt to 
speak. His lordship fortified him with 
bumper after bnmper, till at last Vivian 
, came up to the speaking point.— He took 
*'h\s seat in his new place in the house, and. 



VIVIAN. 429 

«ndeavonring to brave away the seuse of 
shame, rose to sjieak. Notwithstanding the 
assistance of the wine, and the example of 
Mr. Marmaduke Lidhurst, who spoke he. 
fore him with undaunted assurance, Vivian 
could scarcely get on with a hesitating, 
contused, inconsistent speech, uttered iu 
so low and indistinct a voice, that the 
reporters in tlie gallery complained, that 
they could not catch this honourable mem- 
ber's meaning, or that his words did not 
reach them. Conscious of his failure, and 
still more conscious of it's cause, he retired 
again to the coffee-room, as soon as he had 
finished speaking, and again lord Glistonbury 
plied him with wine, saying, that he would 
find he B onld do very well hi reply presently. 
— It hajjpened, that lord Glistonbnry was 

called away — Vivian remained. Mr. 

"Wliartoii, with a party of his friends, entered 
the coffee-room. Wharton seemed much 
heated both mth wine and anger — he was 
talking eagerly to the gentlemen with hiro^ 
and he pronounced the words, " Infamonft[ 
conduct! — Shabby ! — Paltry fellow 1" — 
loud, that all the coffee-room turned t(f 
listen. Colonel S , a gentleman, whfj 



was oiie of Wbarton's pftrtyj bat 
had a ^ood opinion of ViTian, at this mo- 
(ment took him by the ai^, and, dranii^ 
■biiii aside, whispered, in confidence, that 
ht; was persuaded th«re h;»d been some 
mistake in the anangcmente, which, asitM'as 
(reported, lord Clistoubory had jost made 
■with ministry, for that Mr. Whiffton, and 
toiany of his lordship's fonlief party, conr- 
plained of having been shamefully deserted. 
** And to break our wortl and honour to 
ttur party is a thing ho gentleman can do. 
%Vharton had a direct promise firoHi his 
loi-dsWp, that he neier wouk! iwne in till 
fie shoiild come tN along with him. And 
«ow it is confidently said, thnt lord Gliston- 
Imry has made his Iwirgain for his own 
niarqiiisate, and provifled only for hiuiseltj 
his nephew, and his son-in^aw." 

Thrown into tlic utmost consternation by 
the idea of this donbk- forfciture of honorrr, 
iliis breach both of public and private faith, 

■Vivian, after thanking colonel S for liis 

friendly manner of communicating this in- 
fonnatton, and declaring, that the trans- 
■ftction was totidly unknown to him, begged 
that the colonel would do him the favour 



VIVIAN. 431 

Wid the justice to be jiresent when lie should 
require an explanation from lord GJiston- 

bury. To this colonel S consented, 

end they hastened in search of his lord- 
ship; his lordship was not to be found; hut 
Mr. Marniaduke Lidhurst was, however, in 
the coft'ee-rooni, and upon Vivian's refer- 
ring to him, he could not deny the truth of 
the charge, though he used iill his powtifi 
of circumlocution to evnde giving ti direct 
answer. The shame, the indignation, that 
rapidly succeeded to each other in Vivian's 
countenance, sufficiently convinced colonel 

S that he iiad no share in the private. 

part of this disgraceliil tninsaction; and he 
very handsoiaely assnrcd Vivian, diat "he 
would set the matter in it's true point of 
view with his fiieods." Marmaclukc soon 
- found a pretence to withdraw — some meni' 
her was speaking in the honse, whom he 
must hear, he said, and away he went. 

At this moment Mr. Wharton, who was 
walking down the room with his friends, 
]jassed by Vivian, and, as he passe<I, said — > 
" Tliat private v/ces are public benefits, 
we all know; but that public vices are pri- 
vate benefits, some of us^ alas ! ha>-e yet to 



r 




45S VIVIAN, 

learn. But I'd have that little, whiffling, 
most noble and puissant prince expectant, 
his majesty's j-ight tritsfi/, and entireli/ be- 
loved cousin elect, know, that plain Bob 
Wharton is not a man to be duped and de- 
serted n-ith impunity." 

"Who does he mean? — What does ha 
mean?" — whispered some of the bystanders. 
" What prince is he talking of"? — Which of 

the princes ? " "Oh 1 none of the princes," 

replied another. — "You know most noble 
and puissant prince is the title of a mar- 
quis, and our right trusty, and entirely 
beloved cousin, the style in which the king 
writes to liira." 

" But, who is this marquis expectant?" 

" Don't you know? — Lord Glistonbury." 

" But some of his lordship's friends 
ought to take it up, surely I" 

" Hush! — his son-in-law will hear you." 

"Where?" 

" There — don't look!" 

Vi^'ian was, with reason, so much exas- 
perated, by the treaeherouB duplicity of lord 
Glistonbury'a conduct, that he was ill 
clined to midertake his lordship's defence, 
and determined to lea^e it._to himself or t»_, 



VIVIAN.- 433 

nephew; j-et tlie whispers operated not 
a little upon his weakness. Wharton, who 
was walking with his set up and down the 
room, again came within Vivian's hearin{|^. 
and, as he passed, exclaiined — 

" Public vice! and public tirtncf pre- 
vious, well matched pair!" ' 

" Who is public vice, and M-ho is public 
virtue?'" said one of Wharton's conip;i- 
nious. 

" Don't ton know?" replied Wharton — 
" The heir at law and the son-in-law." 
' On hearing this speech, Vivian, whw 
knew that he was one of the pei-sons, ti* 
whom it aJInded, started forward to demand 
an explanation from Wharton ; but colo- 

,nel S held him back. " You ar^ 

-not called upon, l)j' any means, to take 
notice of this," said the colonel : " Wharton 
did not address himself to you, and, though 
he might mean what he said for you, yet 
he speaks under a false impre.?sion; and, 
hesjdcs, he is not quite sober. Leave it te 
me, and I will settle it all to your satisfaction 
before to morrow." Vivian listened unwil- 
lingly and uneasily to the friendly counsel : 
he was more hurt, than he had ever before 



VIVIAN. 

felt liimself, by any of Whartoa's sarcasms, 
becau&e there was. how in tliem a niixtxire 
of truth ; and a man itidom fetls more ir- 
ritable, thim when he U conscioos that he ij 
partly to blaine, and apprehensive that 
others will think him more hlamahle than 
he really is. His irritability was increased 
by the whiejwrs he had heard, aad the looks 
he now perceived among the bystanders ; 
the voice, the opinion of numbers, the fear 
of what others wonld think or say, ope- 
rated against his better judgment. 

" Come," sqid colonel S — ■ — , " let us go 
and see what tfcey are doing in the honse." 

Vivian refused to atir, saying, that it 
would be leaving the field to Wharton. 
Wharton, at the instant, repassed; and, 
still running the changes, with half intoxi- 
cated wit, upon the same ideas, reiterated-*- 

" Public vice ! — We all knew where iJuti 
%vouId end, in these days — in public ho- 
noui's; but, none of you would believe me, 
when I told you where public virtue would 
end^n private treachery! " 

'^ That's neat! — that's strong I — faith, 
that's home ! " whispered some one. 

" Mr- WhaitoB ! " crjed Vivian, going 



\' I V 1 A N. 4^3 

tip to ItiiQ, " I could not help bearing 
wbat you said just now. — Did you intend it 
-for me?" 

" Yoii beard it, it seeuis, sir, and that ie 
sufficient," replied Wliarton, iu an iusoleut 
toue: " as to wbat I uieaat, 1 presuiuc it is 
pretty evident ; but, if you think it inquires 
any explanation, 1 am as ready to give, as 
you caai be to ask it." 

" Tbe sooner tbe better, then, sir," sal^ 
ViviaiL 

Tbe twogeotlepienwalked away together, 
whilst the spectators exclaimed, " Very 
apirited, iudeed !— very right I — very proper ! 
— Vivian could dp po less than call hun 
out. — But, after all, what was the quarrel 
about ?— Which of tlieni was to btauie ?" 

Long before theae pointi were settled, 
the challenge was given and accepted. Co- 

Ipnel S , who followed \''ivian and 

Wharton, endeavoured to set things to ■ 
lights, by explaining, tliat Vivian h^d hceu 
deceived by lord Glistonbury, and kept to- 
tally in the dark re(,pecting the negotiation 
for the martjuisate. But Wharton, aware 
that by taking up the matter immediately 
in suck a spirited wat/, he should do himself 
V3 



infinite hononr with his party, iind with that ' 
majority of the world, who think that the 
greatest merit of a man is to stand to be shot 
at, was not at all willing to listen to these re- 

prepentations. Colonel S declared, that, 

were he in Mr. Wharton's place, lie should, 
without hes-itation, miike an apology to Mr. 
Vivian, and publicly acknowledge, that what 
he said in the coffee-room was sjtoken under 
a false impression, which a plain statement 
of facts has totally removed; but Wharton 
disdained all terms of accommodation ; his 
policy, pride, and desire of revenge, all 
conspired to produce that air of insolent 
determination to fight, which, with some 
people, would obtain the glorious name of 

COURAGE. By this bort of courage, can 

men of the most base and profligate cha- 
racters often put themselves, in a moment, 
upon an equal footing with men of prin- 
ciple and virtue ! 

It was settled, that Mr. Wharton and 
Vivian should meet, at eight o'clock the 
next morning, in a field near toivn. Co- 
lonel S consented to be Vivian's se- 
cond. Kussell was not yet returned, not 

expected till ten the nest day. 



VIVIAN. 43? 

Left to his cool rtflection, Vivian thought, 
with hoiTonr, of the misery, into which the 
event of this duel might involve all with 
whom he was connected, and all who 
were attached to him. — The aflliir was, of 
fonrse, to he kept a secret from all at Glis- 
tonbury House, where Vivian was engaged 
to dine with a large ministerial party. He 
went home to dress : ho[)ing to have a 
quarter of an hour to himself, he dismissed 
his servant, who was waiting in an anti- 
chamber, sayingj that lie would ring when 
he wanted him; but, on entering liis own 
dressing-room, he, to his surprise and mor- 
tification, found his wife seated there, wait- 
ing for him with a face of anxious expecta- 
tion ; a case of new set diamonds on a table 
beside her. " I thought you were at your 
father's, my dear! — Are not you to he at 
Glistonbury House to day?" said Vivian. 

" No," replied lady Sarah. " Surelv, 
Mr. Vivian, you know that my father gives 
a political dinner, and I suppose you are 
to be there?" 

"Oh, yes!" cried Vivian; '■' I, did not 
know what I was saying — I am to be there. 



i 



438 VIVIAN. 

and mnst dress," (looking at his uatct,) 
' for J have no time to spsire — — ." 

" Be tiiat ns it may, J mnst ifitmde fipOn 
youf tiitte for a few minutes," said lady 
Sarah. 

Vivian stood iinpatitntly attentive, whilst 
lady Sarah seemed to find it difticiilt to 
begin some speech, which tsht; had prepared. 

" Women, 1 know, have nothing to do 
with politics" — She began in a constraintd 
voice ; Imt, suddenly quitting her air and 
tonfe of conetraint, she started up, and ex- 
claimed — 

*' Oh, ray dear, dear husbftnd I what hftve 
yon done ? — ■ — No, no, I cannot, ■will not be- 
lieve it, till 1 hear it from your own lipsl" — • 

" What is the matter, my dear hidy 
Sarah?— You astonish, and almost Hiarni 
meV-^said Vivian, endeavoun'ng to pre- 
serve composure of countenance. 

"I will not. — Heaven forbid, that I 
should alann you, as I have been alarmed!" 
said lady Sarah, commanding her "Vflice 
again to a tone of tranquillity. -^ I OUghtj 
and, if I were not weak, should he con- 
vinced, that there is no reason for alarm. 



VIVIAN. 439 

TUtre has been some mistake, no donht; 
and I have been to hlaoie for listening to 
idle feports. Let me, however, state the 

facts. Half an Iioiir ago, I was at Gray's 

the jeweller's, to call for my potir mother't 
diamonds, which, yoa know, he liu« rcscl— i 

"Yes— Well?"' 

'■ And, whilst I was in the ^hop, a party 
of gentlemen came in, all of them unknown 
to me, and, of conrse, I was ccjnp un- 
known to them ; for they began to speak 
of you in a manner, in which none know- 
ing me conld venture in my presence. — 
They came fresh, as T understood, from the 
gallery of the house, where they had been 
listening to this day's debate. They said 

1 cannot bear to repeat or to think of 

what they 8aid You cannot have bar- 
tered your public repntation for a mar*- 

quisate for my father? You eaimot - 

have done that, which is dishonourable-^ 
you cannot have deserted yonr party for a 
paltry place for yonrsell! — ■ — You turn 
pale, — I wish, if it pleased God, that 1 wa» 
this moment in my gi-ave! " 

"Heaven forbid, my dear lady Sarah!" 
cried Vivian, forcing a emile, and endes>- 



.^ 



k 



,)U0 VIVIAN. 

VCTiring; to speak in a tone of raillery. "Why 
fihoold you wish to he in your grave, be- 
ciiuse your husband has just got a good, 
warm place? Live! live!" said he, rais- 
ing her powerless hand; " for consider — as I 
did — and this consideration was of no small 
weight with me — consider, my dear Sarah, 
how much better you "ill live for it!" 

*' An<l you did consider me? And that 
did weigh with yon? — Oh! this is what 
I dreaded most !" cried lady Sarah. — 
" "When will yon know my real character? 
When will you have confidenre in your wife, 
sir? When will you know ibe power, the 
Hoconqnered, nnconquerablc jiower, of lier 
affection for your" 

Vivian, moch struck by the strength of 
her expression, as she- uttered tliese »vords, 
was a moment silent in astonishment; and 
then could only, in an incoherent manner, 
protest, that he did know — that he had 
always done jiisticd to her character — tliat 
lie believed in her affection — and bad the 
greatest confidence in it's power. 

"No, sir, no! — Do not say that, which I 
may not, cannot credit!^- You have uot 
confideiice ih the power of my uftection, or 



VIVIAN. 441 

you would never have rfone this thing to 

save me pain. What pain can be so 

great to me, as the thought of my husband's 

repntation suffering abasement ? Do 

you think, that, in comparison with tliis, I, 
your wife, could put the loss of a service of 
plate, or house in town, or equipage, or ser- 
vants, or such baubles as these ?" added 

she, Lereyes glancing upon the diamonds; 
then, snatching them up, "Take them, take 
them I" cried she, " they ivere my mother's ; 
;iiid,if her spirit could look down from Hea- 
.ven upon us, she would approve my offer — 

fihe would command your acceptance. 

Then here, on my knees, I conjure you, my 
beloved hnsbanil, take them — sell them — 
sell plate, furniture, house, equipage, sell 
every thing, rather than your honour!—" 

" It is sold," said Vivian, in a voice of 
despair. 

"Redeem it, redeem it, at any price!" 
cried lady Sarah — " No! I will kneel here 
at your feet — you shall not raise me, till I 
have obtained this promise, this justice to 
me, to yourself!" 

" It is too late," said Vivian, writhing in> 
«gony. 

u 5 



a 



■ i4« VIVIAN. 

I "Never too late ! " cried Ifttly Sarah-" 
" Give up the place.— Never too late ! — Give 
Dp the place — write this moment, and all 
will be well ; for your honour will be saved, 
and the rest is as nothing in ray eves ! " 

" High-minded woman!" cried Vivian— 
" Why did not I hear yon sooner? — Why did 
not I avail myself of your strength of sottl?* 

" Use it now — hear me now — let as 
waste no time in words — here is pen and 
ink — write, my dearest husband ! and he 
yourself again." 

" You waste the energy of yottr mind on 
me," cried Vivian, breaking from lady Sa- 
nib, and striking his forehead violently ; 
"nUani not worthy of iuch attachment -^ it 
is done — it cannot be undone — 1 am a 
weak, ruined, dishonoured ^vretch ! — 1 tell 
you, it CANNOT be undone ! — " 

Lady Sarah rose, and stood in desjpair. 
Then, looking op to Heaven, she was silent 
for some moments. After which, ap- 
proaching her husband, she said, in an al- 
tered, calm voice — " Since it cannot be un- 
done, I will urge you no more. But, whe- 
ther in glory or in shame, you are seCUre 
that yoxii wiie will a\i\de \)-^ -^ou." 



VIVIaW. 443 : 

Vivian «nbraced her with a tenderness, , 
which he had never befoi-e felt. " Excel- ^ 
lent woman ! in justice to myself, I must 
tell you," ciied he, " that I was deceived 
into this situation. — I can say no more!" 

At this moment, a servant knocked aX 
the door, bringing a message from lord 
Glistonbury, to say, thi>t all the company 
were assembled, and that dinner waited for 
Mr. Vivian, 

" You are not in a fit state to go. Shall 
i send an apology to my father i" 

" Oh^ no I — I must go," cried Vivian, ! 
starting up — " I must go, or it will be 
thoHght — or it will be suspected- — I can't 
explain it to you, my dear; but 1 mubt go 
— I must appear to day, and in spirits, too, 
if possible." 

He hnrried away. A servant delivered 
to lady Sarah a number of notes and curds. 
The notes were notes of eongratnlation, 
from many of her acquaintance, upon the i 
report iu circulation, that her father iras 
immediately to be a marquis. The cards ' 
were from people who were to be at her as- 
sembly that night, Tliis was one of her 
nightst wiiich wece usually crowded. Lady 



pMl 



Sarah's first wish wfis to write apologies, 
and to say, that she was not well enough to 
see company ; but, recollecting that her 
husband had said, " he mnst appear, and 
in spiritis, too, il'possiblej" she thought, that , 
it might be more tor tlieir interest, and ac- 
cording to his wishes, that she should see 
company, and that no appearance of de- 
jection should he discerned in his wife. She 
prepared herself accordingly, and, ivith a 
heavy heart, walked through her splendid 
apartuicnts, to see whether the decorations 
had been properly executed, 

In the mean time, ViWaii dined at lord 
Glistonbury's, with a large ministerial party. 
As soon as he conld, after dinner, V'iviao 
got away, ami lord tilistonbnry attributed 
his retiring early to the awkwardness h« 
might feel in the company of men, whom he 
had, tilt now, so violently opposed. This 
his lordship thought a foolish jfoung man's 
Jhelhtgy which would soon wear away. 
Vivian retumed to his own house, anxious 
to escape from crowds, and to have some 
hours of leisure to p:iss alone ; but, the mo- 
ment he entered his own house, he saw the 
great staircase lined with roses and orange- 



f I V I A N. 445 

trees ; he found the rooms lighted up, and 
prepared for company; and lady Sarah 
dressed, for the first thne, in all her mo- 
ther's dianiouds. 

" Good Heavens ! — Do yon see company 
to night r " cried he. 

" Yes ; for I thought, my dear, t!iat you 
would wish it." 

" I wish it 1 — Oh ' if you knew how 1 wish 
to be alone' — " 

" Then, as no one is yet come, I can stiU 
shut my doors, and order them to say, that 
am not well enough to see company — I am 
sure it is tnie. Shall I ? " 

" No, my dear, it is too late ;'' said V 
am afraid tt is impossible for you to do that.' 

*' Not impossible, if you M'lsh it." 

" Welf, do as yoa pleiLse." 

" Which is most' for your interest? — I 
have no other pleasure." 

" You are too guod to me, and I fear I^ 
ishall never have it in my power to show 
you any gratitude " 

'* But decide which is best to be done, 
.my dear," said lady Sarah. 

'* Why, my dear, ! believe you judged 
rightly — Sec your friends, and make the 



■i 



MB VIVIAK. 

best of it — But I can appear only for a mo- 
ment; 1 have buBitiess of fOnseriuence — 
letters — pajrers — that must be fioisfaed to 
night; and I must now go to my study." 

" You shaJI not be interrupted," said lady 
Sarah — "1 will exert myself as much ak 
possible ^ 

A thandering knock at the door. — Vi- 
vian passed through the saloon, and guined 
his study; where, after remaining for some 
time, in painfiil reflection, he was roused by 
hearing the clock strike tivelve. He re- 
collected, that he had several arrangements^ 
to make in his afiuirs this night; and that it 
Hvas incumbent on him to sign and execute 
a will, which had been for some time in 
his possession, with certain blanks not yet 
filled up. His wile was, by his marriage 
settlements, amply provided for ; btit he in- 
serted in his will some clauses, which he 
thought would add to her peculiar comfort, 
and took care to word them so, tliat his re- 
spect and esteem should be known hereafter 
to all the world ; and thiit, if he died, he 
should leave her the consolation of know- 
ing, that his lost feelings for htl' were those 
of gratitude and affection. — — To his mo- 



VIVIAN. 447 

tber, be left all that was in his powet to 
contribute to the ease of her declining 
years — often obliged to pause whilst he 
wrote, o^-ercome by the thoughts of what 
her grief n-onld be if he died. He left his 
friend Russell, m remainder, to a consider- 
able part of his estate ; and he ivas just 
adding the bequest of certain books, which 
ihej' had read together in his better days, 
when the door of the study suddenly open- 
ed, and hig niotlier entered. 

" Wfiiit is all this?" n-ied she — " Im- 
mersed in papers at such a time as this '." 

" I so hate crowded assemblies," said Vi- 
dian, huddling his papers together, and ad*- 
vancing to meet his mother. 

"So do I," said lady Mary; "but I bare 
been waiting, with exemplary patience, 
where I was stationed by lady Sarah, at the 
card-table, every instant expecting vour ar- 
rival, that I might have a few minutes' con- 
Tersation with you, and inquire how matters 
went on at the house, andcongratuiate " 

Before she had finished the word congra- 
tulate, she stopped short ; for she had, fay 
thii time, a fill! liew of her son's counte- 
nance : and ebe knew that countenance so 



&18 



VIVIAN. 



weU, that it was impossible to disguise it so 
as to deceive her maternal penetration. 

"My dear son!" said she, ■** something 
is going wrong; I conjure you, tell me 
what is the matter?" — Her eye glanced 
upon the parchments, and she saw that it 
was a will. Vivian forced a langh, and 
asked her, if she had th^ weakness some 
people felt of disliking to see a will, or of 
fancying, that a man was going to die if he 
made his will. Then, to quiet her appre- 
hensions, and to put a stoji to her Farther 
incjuiries, he threw aside his papers, and 
rctnrned with hct' to the company, where he 
exerted himself to appear as gay as the oc- 
casion required. Lord GHstonhury, who 
had called in for a few moments, wa.s now 
playing the great man, as well as bis total 
want of dignity of mind and manners 
would permit ; he was answering, in whis- 
pers, questions Jibout his marquisate, and 
sustaining, with all his might, his new part 
of the friend of government. — Every tfalng 
conspired to strike Vivian with melan- 
choly — yet he constrained himself so far, 
that his charming spirits delighted all, who 
were uninterested in observing any but the 



VIVIAN. 449 

external signs of gayety ; bnt his mother 
saw that his viviicity was forced. She made 
intjuiries from all tlic gentlemen of her ac- 
quaiatance, about what had pttssed the pre- 
t'eding day, Iwtli at the house of commons, 
and to day, at the dinner at lord GUston- 
hury's s Irat those, who had been at lord 
Glistonbury's dinner, assuredher, that every 
thing had been as amicable as could be ; 
and his ministerial friends said, that every 
thing had gone oil as smoothly as possible 
at the house: of what had passed between 
^ Mr. Wharton and Vivian in the coffee- 
room, nobodj/ could give her an account. 
Baffled, but not satisfied, the anxious mo- 
ther sent to the hotel, where Mr. Russell 
lodged, to inquire, whether lie was re- 
turned to town, and to beg to see him hn- 
niediately. From him, sbe thought, she 
should learn the truth; or, by his influence 
over her son, she hoped, that, if there was 
any danger of a qnarrel, it might be in time 
prevented. Her servant, however, brought 
word, that Mr. Kussell was not expected 
from the country till ten o'clock the next 
morning ; but that her note would be given 
to hxax directly ou bis arrivaj^ — .She.apr 



^tW VIVIAN. 

plied herself next to tbe study of her 
datigbter's counienance, whilst she asked 
two or three qaestioos^ calculated to disco- 
ver, whether lady Sarah was tinder any 
anxiety about Vivian. But, though lady 
Sarah's countenance exhibited not the 
fitighteEt Viiriution nnder this trial, yet this 
tranquillity was by no means decisively sa- 
tisfactory ; because, whatever might be hef 
hltemal agitation, she knew that lady Sa- 
rah could maintain the same countenance. 
Lady Sarah, who plainly discerned her mo- 
ther's anxious curiosity, thought it her doty 
to keep bcT husband's secrets ; and, iraftgio- 
ing that she knew the whole truth, was not 
farther alarmed by these hints, nor did they 
lead her to suspect tbe real state of lh« 
taiBe. 

Lady Mary was, at length, tolerably well 
satisfied, by a conversation with her son i 
during the course of which, she settled, ift 
her lUiagtnatiun, that he hiid only been in- 
«erting in his will a bequest to his friend 
Kussellt and that the depression of his 
epirits arose from the Gtniggle he had had 
in determining to vote against his patriotic 
ideas. She rose to depart ; and Vivian, as 



VIVIAN. 451 

he conducted her down stairs, and put her 
into her carriage, could scarcely repress his 
feelings ; and he took so tender a leave of 
her, that all her apprehensions revived ; but 
there was a, cry of " Ladi/ ■'— somebody's 
carriage ! " and lady Mary's coachman drove 
*>n immediately, without giving her time for 
one Word more. After his mottier's departure, 
Vivian, instead of i-etnming to the company, 
■went to his study, and took this opportunity 
of finishing his will; but, as the servants 
mr« all in attendance at supper, he could 
not get any body to witness it i and for this 
he was obliged to wait till a very late hour, 
when all the company, at last, departed. 
The rattle of carriages at length died away i 
And, when all was silence, just as he was 
about to ring for his witnesses, he heard 
lady Sarah's step coming along the corri- 
dor towards the study : he went out imme- 
diately to meet her, drew her arm within 
his affectionately, and took two or three 
tnros with her up aad down the empty 
saloon, whilst a servant was extinguishing 
the lights. Vivian's wind was so full, that 
he could not speak ; and he was scarcely 
conscious that he had not spoken, t^ll lady 



A 



[4li93 VIVIAN. 

Stirali broke the sileace, l)y as'kiiig if he had 
finished his business. 
" No, my dear, I liave more to do yet; 
but you will obUge nie, if you ivill go to 
to rest — You must he fatigued — uiind and 
body ■" 
" Jou seem fatigued almost to death," said 
lady Sstrah ; " and cannot you finish the re- 
mainder of your business as well to nior- 
Irow ?" 
"No," replied Vivian — " it must be fi- 
nished before to moirow. — 1 am bound in 
duty to finish it before to morrow." 
" If it is a point of duty, I have no more 
to say," replied lady Sarah — "but," — 
fontinned she, in a tone of proud humi- 
lity — "but if I might so far intrude upon 

your confidence, as to inquire -" 

" Make no inquiries, my dear ; for I can- 
not answer any, even of yours " — said Vi- 
vian — "And let me beg of yoo to go to 
rest; my mind will then be more at ease. — - ■ 
I cannot command my thoughts, whilst 1 
am anxious about you; and 1 am anxious — ^ 
more anxious than ever I was in my life — 
about you at this moment. You will oblifQ 
me, if you will go to rest." 



" 1 CAN-NOT rest, but I will leave you, 
since you desire it — I have no idle curi- 
osity — Good night !" 

" Good night! and thank you, once more, 
ray excellent wife, for all your kindness." 

"There cannot be a better woman!" 
said Vivian to himself, as she retired. — 
*' Why have I not loved her, as she de- 
served to be loved ? — Weak ! — alas ! weak in 
every thing! — But what a pity, that, %vith 
all her virtues, she has, to the whole world 
but me, such ungracious manners! What a 
pity, that, with such powers to bear and 
torbear, she has so little the talent of pleas- 
ing! What a pity, that a too rigid educa- 
tion has prevented her from being as agree- 
able and amiable as she is estimable. — But 
it ill becomes me to blame any one but my- 
self! — If I live, I will do my utmost to make 
her happy — If I live, I will yet repair all. 
— And, if I die, she will have but little 
reason to deplore the loss of such a hus- 
band ." 

Vivian now executed his will — wrote 
several letters of business — burnt letters — 
arranged papers — regretted that Ritssell, 
who was to be his executor, was not near 



4M VIVIAN. 

him —made mauy bitter reflections on the 
past, many good resolutions for the futurt, 
in case he should survive ; then, over- 
powered with fatigue ot" mind, slept for some 
time, aad was wakened by the clock's strik- 
ing seven. By eight o'clock, he was at the 
place appointed — Mr. Wlimton appeared a* 
few minutes afterwards. Their secontb 
having measured out the distance, they took 
tlieir ground. As Vivian hnd given the 
chalkuge, Wharton bad the first tire — He 
fired —Vivian staggered some paces hack, 
fired his pistol into the air, and telh The 
seconds ran to his assistance, and raised 
him from the ground. The bullet had 
entered his chest. He stretched out his 
hand to Mr. Wharton, in token of forgive- 
ness, and, as soon as he could speak, desired 
the seconds to remember, that it was 
gave the challenge, and that he thought 
he desers'ed to bear the blame of the quarrel. 
Wharton, callous as he was, seemed struck 
with pity and remorse : he asked what friends 
Vivian would wish to have apprised of his 
situation. A surgeon was in attendance. 
Vivian, faint from loss of Idood, just pro- 
nounced Kussell's name, and the name of 



V 1 V 1 A N. 455 

the hotel where he was to he found, adUiiig, 
** nobody else." Wharton rode off, under- 
taking to find Mr. Russell ; and Vivian was 
carried into a Httle public-bouse, by the 
orders of the surgeon, who thought that he 
could not bear the motiou of a carriage. 
Wharton met Mr, Hussell, who was coming 
from town. He had come to London earlier 
than he had intended, and, in consequence 
of lady Slary Vivian's notCj which he had 
received immediately on his at'rival, had 
made such inquiries, as convinced him tliat 
her apprehensions were just; and, having 
discovered the place where the parties were 
to meet, he had hastened thither, in hopes 
of preventing tlie fatal event. The moment 
he saw Mr. Wharton, he knew that he was 
too late. Without lusking any other queir 
tion than, " Is Viviao alive?" he preseed 
forwards. The surgeon, who was the next 
person he saw, gave him no hopes of his 
friend's recovery ; hut laid he might last 
till night, or linger, perhaps, for a day or 
two. Vivian had, by this tim^i recovered 
his senses and his speech ; but, when Rus^ 
sell entered the room where be lay^ be was 



456 V n- 1 A N. 

BO mncli struck liy tlic grief in Russell's 
ConntcDauce, that lie could not recollect any 
one of tlic many things be had to say. — 
Kussell, the tirni Rnssell ! was now ciuite 
overcome. 

" Yes, my dear friend," said Vivian, ** this 
is the end of all your care — of all your hopes 
of me 1 — Oh, my poor, poor mother! What 
will become of her ! Where can we find 
consolation for her ! — Yon and Selina Sid- 
ney! Yoa know how fond my mother was 
of her — how fond she was of my mother — 
till I, the cause of evil to iUl my friends, se- 
parated them. You must reunite them. 
You must repair all. This hope — this 
hope of your happiness, my beloved friends, 

will sooth my last momenta ! How 

much happier Selina will he with yon, 
than " 

Russell sobbed alond. — " Yes, yield to 
your feelings, for I know how strong they 
are," said Vivian — " you, that have always 
felt more for me, than I have cier frit for 
myself! But it is well for you, that my life 
ends; for I have never been any thing hot 
a torment and a disgrace to you ! — And yet 



VIVIAN. 457 

I had good dispositions ! — But there is not 
tUiie for regret about myself ; I have others 
to think of, better worth thinking of — ." 

Vivian called for pen, ink, and paper, had 
himself raised in his bed, and supported, 
whilst he wrote to Selina, and to his 
mother. 

" Do not stop me ! " cried he to Russell — 
" It is the only act of friendship — the only 
thing I can do in this world now with plea- 
sure, and let me do it — ." 

His notes contained nearly what he had 
jnst said to Russell — He put tliem open into 
his friend's hand; then, good natured to the 
last, Vivian took up his j)en again, with no 
small difficulty, and wrote a few affectionate 
words to his wife. " She well deserves this 
flora me," said he. " Be a friend to her, 
Russell — When I am gone, she will, I 
know, want consolation." After Russell 
had assured him, that he would do alt h« 
desired, Vivian said, " J believe tliere is no 
one else in the world, who will regret nij- 
death, except, perhaps, lady Julia Lidhurst. 
How generous she was to forgive me ! — 
Tell her, I remembered it when 1 was 
dying 1 — Weakness, weakness of mind I 

VOL. IV. X 



A 



VIVIAN. 

flie canse of all my errours 1 Oh, Rm- 

Bell ! how well you knew nie from the first t 
— But all is over now! — My experience 
can be of no use to me — I wish it could he 
useful to others — There are thousands of 

young men like me. Every thing swims 

before my eyes. One comfort is, I have 

not the hlood of u feltow-crenture to answer 
for. — My greatest crrour was making that 
profligate man my friend — he was my 
vain. — I little thought, a few years ago^ 
that I should die hy his band — but I 
forgive him, a,s I hope to he forgiven my- 
self! — Is the clergyman, who was sent for, 
rome ? — My dear Riisseil I this would be 
too severe a task for you. — He is come ? — 
Then let me see him ." 

Vivian was left, for some time, to liia 
private devotions. The clergyman after- 
wards summoned Russell to return t he 
found his friend calmeil and resigned. 
Vivian stretched out his hand — thanked 
him once more — and expired ! 

" Oh ! worthy of a better fate ! " thought 
Russell. — " With such a heiu-t ! — With 
such talents' — And so young!- — With 
wily one fanit — and no TJcel— ^'<^. 



VIVIAN. 4.->9 

my friend 1 is it all over ^ — and all in 
vain ? >' 

Vivian'ymother and widow arrived just 
at this moment ; and Russell, and lord 
Glistonbnry, who followed breathless, could 
not stop them from ciitering the apartment. 
The mother's grief bordered on disti'action ; 
but it found relief in tears and cries — ^Lady 
Sarah shed no tear, and uttered no excla- 
mation ; but advancing, insensible of all 
opposition, to the bed, on which hw dead 
husband lay, tried whether there was any 
poise, any breath lei't ; then knelt down 
beside him, in silent devotion. — Lord Glis- 
tonbury, striking his forehead continually, 
and striding up and down the room, re- 
peated, "I killed liim ! — Ikiiledhiml — 
I was the cause of his deatli ! — Wy victim t 
— My ^nctim ! — But take her away ! — - 
Take her away — I cannot. — For mercy's 

sake, force her away, Mr. Kussell ! 

Then I must ." 

" There is ho need of force," said lady 
Sarah, rising, as her father approached % 
" J am going to leave my husband for 

ever," Then, turning to Mr. Rnssell, 

she inqiiiredj if his friend bad left any mes- 



[sage or letter for her — desired to see 
t fke letter — retired with it — still tvith- 
oat shedding a tear — a few hours after- 
wards was tiikeii ill, and, before night, 
was delivered of a dead son. Lady Sarah 
survived, but has oever since appeared ia 
what is called the world. 

Both RuEsell aud miss Sidney were so 
much shocked, by the death of Vivian, that 
they coiild not, for sonic time, think on any 
other subject. The hope, however, that 
their union may he effected, and the belief 
that they may yet be as happy, as their 
united virtnes and strength of mind deserve, 
is the consoling idea upon which, after so 
many melancholy events, the mind of the 
iiomane reader may repose. 



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